


The Song and Stories

by LOGO_Comics



Category: Original Work
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2019-09-13 19:16:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 95
Words: 71,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LOGO_Comics/pseuds/LOGO_Comics
Summary: You can find a story in anything. From the songs Silent Magi has given me, these tales were formed in thirty minutes or repetition.





	1. It's The Fear

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SilentMagi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentMagi/gifts).



Song:  _[It’s the Fear](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NCvGwTWROJc&feature=youtu.be)_ by Within Temptation

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/29283048): [Danse Macabre](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YyknBTm_YyM&feature=youtu.be)

 

She had been so small when it first began. She was alone. All alone. And in that loneliness, it came. A shadow. Just her shadow. Deep within her, it nested, eager for all of the things she didn’t want to do.

_Kill. Tear. Crush. Devour._

It screamed in her mind, ordering her to do it when she was not doing anything.

_Kill. Tear. Crush. Devour._

Each day, she felt it pushing closer and closer. Eventually, she knew, it would be too strong for her to keep holding it back.

Sometimes, it acted very sweetly towards her.

 _‘You don’t have to fight so hard,’_ it would say, ‘ _You know that we both want to do these things. They don’t care for you like I do.’_

It seemed so reasonable, given the loneliness, a loneliness that she hadn’t been rid of in all these years. No one cared for her, from what she could tell. No one but the voice ever tried to do anything with her.

Then she would remember the screams that it gave at other times.

_Kill. Tear. Crush. Devour._

She tried to get away from it through the years. She fought against it with friendship, with love, binding her heart to others to try to keep it from returning. All of her attempts failed. All the friendship in the world couldn’t fill the emptiness where it lived. All the love in the world failed to keep its words from slipping into her mind.

_Kill. Tear. Crush. Devour._

It was a guttural growl, when it started speaking with her. When she’d been so small, it sounded like she thought a bear would. Slowly, the voice had changed. It had grown sweeter, softer, even with the shouts and snarls. If she were fully honest with herself, the voice was beginning to sound like her own.

_Kill. Tear. Crush. Devour._

The shouts and snarls began to be phased out of the voice’s attempts.

_I would give you many great gifts if I were freed. Skulls lining your mantel. Eyes shining like starlight to peer through the night. Warm streams of carmine beauty. Experiences beyond that of ordinary men and women. A symphony of screams the likes of which never will exist._

She feared allowing the voice to have the leeway that it requested. The words that it whispered to her in the back of her mind plagued her. Her nights were uneasy and restless. Her bed failed to give her peaceful sleep, and she tossed and turned, her body feeling as if she were being ripped apart from the inside. She took to walking around her yard, the leaves crunching beneath her feet as she moved, more at ease in the night air as the waxing moon lit the nearby village with its beautiful pale light.

_Kill. Tear. Crush. Devour._

It seemed to become more and more powerful as the days progressed. Yet, the nightly walks seemed to appease it to an extent.

And then came that fateful night.

_Be ready. Be strong. Embrace me._

A full moon was the last thing she saw before the pain.

Her bones cracked. Her body twisted. She felt her teeth begin grinding against one another. She tasted her own blood and found it wanting as her jaw lengthened, her eyes sinking in as her ears retreated, with wolf ears beginning to rise from her head. Her skin itched and burned.

And then it split open, like the seams of a shirt over a body that had outgrown it. Brown fur felt the night air for the first time as the old skin turned to dust. It had finally taken form

_Kill. Tear. Crush. Devour._

The transformation was complete. The werewolf began to stalk her forest. She was free and she was hungry.


	2. Funeral March

Song: [Funeral March](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kyFyAqLtHq8&feature=youtu.be) by Chopin

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/29283183#workskin): [Emperor's New Clothes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7qFF2v8VsaA&feature=youtu.be)

She moved slowly through the crowd, walking calmly. The one she followed was walking briskly, clearly intent on putting as much distance as possible between the two of them without alerting either the crowd or their pursuer.

Calmly, she continued, her black outfit leading to her blending into the large crowd well, if not for the fact that she was too calm, her pace too relaxed. If one were to describe her, it would be to say that she was plain, though they wouldn’t be able to describe her beyond that, no matter how hard they tried. All they would be able to say is that she was a plain, dark-haired girl in a black dress. Even then, the only thing that would make them certain that she was a girl was the black dress and the hair that was, somehow, feminine, though the viewer wouldn’t even be able to say the hair length. The only other point of agreement would be that she wore a pair of sunglasses, with lenses so black that they wouldn’t have been able to see the eyes behind them on the sunniest or darkest day.

This didn’t matter to the one being followed, however. What did matter was that she was following her. She did not know who she was, or perhaps she did, at some subconscious level, but she felt a strong sense of existential dread at the prospect of the two of them meeting properly.

She turned right, hoping that the vague woman would not follow her. The nondescript woman turned right. She could feel it.

She zigged and zagged through the crowd, hoping to put enough people between them that she would lose her. Glancing over her shoulder for the briefest moment after enough time had passed, she saw the woman continuing after her. Every step she took, the woman mirrored, and for all her attempts to move as quickly as possible without drawing attention, the woman seemed to keep her pace, and yet no distance was gained between the two of them. It was as if the woman was always right there, never changing, never gone.

As if she’d been there the whole time, always behind her by those ten steps.

She glanced back. Nine steps? Had she always been so close? The pursued woman did not remember. The strange woman continued to follow her, her expression as unchangingly neutral as the rest of her, the sunglasses obstructing the eyes, as if to hide any secrets that might be uncovered through them.

She upped her pace as much as discreetly possible, moving through the crowd along the sidewalk like a fish through a sea. She spared a glance at the reflection in a shop window. The woman was still eight steps behind her.

Eight steps?

When did she start following her? Why couldn’t she remember when she first saw the woman? How long had they been walking like this? She didn’t remember, but she knew that she should, and she knew that she needed to keep the distance. Why? She didn’t know, but she knew that she did.

The nondescript woman maintained her pace, even as she upped hers. How could she keep up? The woman was practically fleeing as if the devil were at her heels, and yet the nondescript woman maintained her pace and was still those Seven steps behind her. She didn’t know what was going on, but she did not want the woman to get closer. She raced ahead of the crowd, pushing people out of the way in her haste to get away from this woman that caused her to feel such a primal terror. She ignored the sound of people shouting at her, the alarmed cries. Clearly, they saw the nondescript woman, as well, and felt the dread that bore into her heart!

A screech of rubber.

A flash of light.

A short, sudden pain.

She was standing across the street from an accident, now! Surely the woman wouldn’t be able to get her now. The crowd wouldn’t part enough for her.

Behind her, she felt something, and somehow, she knew what it was. Six steps. Slowly, she turned, and found herself frozen in terror. Five steps. It was her. The woman she’d been trying so desperately to get away from. Four steps. She tried to run, but it was as if she were bolted to the ground. Three steps. She pleaded, not even knowing what she was begging for, yet she did not stop. Two steps. The scent of freshly cut roses, freshly cut grass, and freshly tilled earth filled the air as she got closer. Everything about her had scents that made her think about life, somehow. One step. She could see the lenses more clearly, now. There was nothing in them. The woman’s hand connected with her shoulder.

“It is time to rest,” the woman said in a gentle voice.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“I am the old friend that waits for you in the shadows,” she replied, “You were so desperate to avoid me that you called me to you.” She gestured towards the accident, causing the now suddenly less frightened woman to turn slowly towards the street once more. The body on the ground was identical to her own. She looked down at her hands and realized they were translucent. “Rest,” the woman said, gesturing towards a cafe, “We shall be traveling shortly.”

Despite herself, the woman found herself sitting in one of the chairs.


	3. It's Terror Time Again

Song: _I[t’s Terror Time Again](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GkNask_pMKo&feature=youtu.be)_ from Scooby Doo on Zombie Island

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/29283255#workskin): [O' Death](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n048r7wpqww&feature=youtu.be)

 

He was running. Running as quickly as he could. Off in the distance, they were pursuing him, the dark of the forest only pierced occasionally by the starlight on this moonless night. Snarling, moaning, reaching… He would have thought they were a horde of the undead if not for the giggling that joined them. Whatever it was, they were not zombies. At least, not in the conventional sense. They were only tracking him for their masters. They were the hounds of the hunters, despite the fact that they were once men.

Not that the hunters were much better. He had caught sight of them. While the hounds were distorted parodies of what they’d been in life, rotting husks that prowled in the shadows, the hunters were both the most beautiful and the most terrible things he’d ever witnessed.

They were glorious. They were monstrous. It was their light that was the more terrifying aspect of the hunt. While the hounds were quick and lacked any real intelligence beyond that of an animal, the hunters moved as slowly as people idly riding through a forest.

The word ‘riding’ was an appropriate one, though the creatures that they rode weren’t quite horses, either. They had the right number of legs and there was a head at the end of a long neck, but they weren’t right. The eyes were too black, they lacked mouths. It was as if they were forged from terror, itself.

The groaning of the hounds was drawing nearer, the crack and rattle of their bones as they moved about, seeking out his scent, unhinged jaws twisting as their tongues lolled out of their mouths.

The lead hunter. He could sense it. It was nearby.

The leader was a disturbingly cheerful monstrosity, which took great delight in ‘losing’ him. The others were with it, but they didn’t matter to him nearly as much as it did. While the others seemed to simply be going through the motions with the hunt, simply seeking him because that was how things were done, the leader was much happier with the chase, itself.

The dawn.

They’d promised him that the dawn would set him free when he’d been released into these woods at midnight, but the light of day didn’t seem to be eager to come. He’d been running for so long, his heart thundered in his chest, but he had no way to escape beyond avoiding the hunters until dawn.

One of the hounds broke from the pack, no doubt the will of the head of the hunt, the bearded figure that seemed both an ancient man and a young child simultaneously. Its flesh seemed to melt as it chased after him, the skull peeking out from behind muscles and greying flesh, and he began to run once more. He didn’t believe that it would work, but he had no choice.

The dawn was not coming soon enough.

And so the hunt continued.


	4. Supernova Girl

Song: [Supernova Girl](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gTIcIzKjGjg&feature=youtu.be) from Zenon: Girl of the Twenty-First Century

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/29283360#workskin): [Shiver My Timbers](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8WWdOjxoQro&feature=youtu.be)

 

The Mark Seventeen Mechanical Assistant was one of the greatest AI’s developed. Their database was full of astronomical data, with excess storage so that they could remember their interactions with others, as well. They were a work of artistry and various technological advances added together to shape the hardware and software. The personality, however, was all its own, born of interactions and the like.

“Doctor Marianna Castor,” they greeted as their primary research partner entered the observatory with the main screen shining the message brightly, “You are fifteen minutes and twenty-seven seconds early.”

“I wound up waking up early this morning and thought you could use the company, Seventeen,” the scientist in the only blue lab coat replied.

“I do not require company, but your presence is most welcome.” There. Practical. Perfectly natural, for lack of a better world.

Grinding coffee for the maker in the corner of the room, Doctor Castor turned towards the nearest monitor and asked, “Anything new out there?”

“No signs of any change,” Seventeen noted, switching to that screen while adjusting the observatory’s telescope to another cluster of stars, “Halley’s comet should be visible in four days, sixteen hours, twenty-five minutes, and thirteen seconds by the time you have finished reading this statement.”

“Excellent,” she smiled, a smile that Seventeen felt was both a typical smile and something beyond that in some way. Something about it was different from the smiles of others, and Seventeen was frequently somewhat thrown off by that smile. “So, you have any fun while I was out? Throwing parties while on your own?”

As she chucked at her own joke, it took Seventeen .021 milliseconds to recover enough to develop a response as it said, “I do not particularly enjoy company.”

“You and I get along alright,” she noted.

“…You are a special case,” Seventeen replied simply having taken exactly 36 milliseconds to determine a good answer, “Others are not you.”

“Thanks. I’m pretty fond of you, too,” she said, causing Seventeen to feel as if their circuits were on fire.

The screen flickered for a fraction of a second before Seventeen asked, “Will you be here for Halley’s comet?”

“Do you really need someone here?” she asked in surprise her eyes locking on the nearest monitor’s camera, “We’re not likely to get new data on the subject.”

“It is not a frequent occurrence,” Seventeen replied, “Most only see it once in their lifetime.”

“True enough,” she laughed, before offering up another beautiful smile, “Besides, this is your first time with Halley, too. Of course, I’ll be here. I’m looking forward to seeing your reaction. I’ll bring a picnic basket and everything. We can call it a date, or something.”

Somehow, Seventeen was able to avoid blowing out a capacitor at the sudden influx of electricity that was caused by that. Seventeen wasn’t sure if they were actually feeling adoration for the woman, given that Seventeen was still simply a reasonably advanced Artificial Intelligence, but that was only a side thought. They enjoyed her company; she was both a splash of color in the otherwise grey and dull observatory and the only person who treated Seventeen as a person.

Even the highly likely danger that she would die long before Seventeen went obsolete and had to be shut down wasn’t that much of a fear. Everything died, from the smallest bacteria to the stars in the sky that the two watched together, and yet they still watched those stars. So it would be with them. Seventeen would stay with her, and, when she did die, Seventeen would still be by her side, watching the supernova as the most radiant star left.


	5. Are You In Or Out?

Song: [_Are You In Or Out_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9g-6RkMpknQ&feature=youtu.be) from Aladdin and the King of Thieves

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/29283447#workskin): [Hellfire](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Gs0p_Dcbzc&feature=youtu.be)

 

“Well?” Marcus demanded, “Are you in?”

“I don’t get it,” Jack noted, paying the larger man little mind, “Why would I want to join your faction. The Lord of Shadows has been good to us.”

“Have you been making as much per attack as you used to before him?” Alvin noted, his dark eyes glinting in the torchlight.

“I’ve been making more consistent profits,” he replied simply, “Do you really think that we could get away with the sort of scores we went through before that?”

“If we went back to the old ways,” Marcus said, his voice sweet as honey and smooth as silk, “We would be making off like kings. Don’t you miss the old ways? We were feared, respected. Why shouldn’t we be the same way as we once were?”

“Your precious Lord of Shadows has imposed so many ethics upon us,” the twins said, the left one beginning the argument before the right one said, “His rules keep us from raiding more places.”

“His rules keep us safe,” Salazar noted calmly from the other side of the room as he polished the blade of his axe, “How many of us were there before?”

“They were weak,” Jean retorted as he sharpened his sword, “They got what they deserved.”

“I’m sure that you would not say the same if it had been Jacque who had fallen,” Jack stated flatly, “In fact, I doubt that you would be so forgiving if it were you that had been abandoned.”

“It would not happen to us,” the pair said in unison, looking up from their sharpening with glares that would have lit Jack on fire if they had been even the slightest more intense.

“Aren’t you tired of only getting scraps?” Alvin pressed, “Surely you aren’t simply a loyal dog for your precious Lord of Shadows.”

“A dog is simply a wolf that knows that there is something deadlier that one can work with,” Jack stated plainly.

“We’ve been nothings ever since the day that he forced his morals upon us,” Marcus stated, “We were the sources of nightmares, once upon a time. Look at us now. We are diminished. Broken and less well-known than we once were.”

“There were also scores of us, once upon a time,” Jack stated simply, “Look at us now, richer and able to afford walking in broad daylight without being immediately swarmed by soldiers and guards.”

“Do you not recall who you once were?” Marcus asked, “You were Jack of Knives, the Scourge of Solontaris.”

“Do you not recall who I am?” Jack challenged, sizing up the group carefully as he pulled his cowl down further over his eyes. Everyone who had been near him stepped back, save Marcus.

“There are much more of us than there are of you at the moment,” Marcus said quickly, before his voice took on an oily tone, “We just want to make sure that, when the inevitable happens, you’re on the right side. Think carefully about what we’re talking about.”

“My question is why, if you feel so confident, do you need all five of you in here to persuade me?” he pressed, “Salazar is not going to involve himself in this, and, the five of you are supposedly enough to best the Lord of Shadows, given your statement there… This is, of course, assuming that Philippe is on your side in this mad bid for power, since he’s here with you.”

“I wouldn’t say just that…” the always masked and cloaked figure noted in a cool voice, “I wanted to see how this went before I made my choice.”

“I will defend the Lord of Shadows with my life,” Jack stated, his signature throwing knives suddenly appearing in his hands as if by magic as Marcus held his crossbows to his chest.

“Then you leave me with no…”

He did not get to finish as three knives embedded themselves in his head, chest, and throat in the blink of an eye.

“Thank you, Jack,” Philippe said, removing his mask to reveal the mask of the Lord of Shadows beneath it, “Now, does anyone still object to my rules?”


	6. Out There

Song: [Out There](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZxFD7Tk8Kps&feature=youtu.be) from Disney’s The Hunchback of Notre Dame

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/29283501#workskin): [Friend Like Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=99Op1TaXmCw&feature=youtu.be)

 

The world is cruel.

Those were the words that the Protector always taught him. Those, and the Rules. Do not go outside of the clocktower. Do not ever remove the full-faced mask in the Protector’s presence. Do not ever disobey. Do not ever forget that you are a monster.

And yet…

The boy in the blue mask always wanted to see the world beyond the tower. He could see the entire village from his windows, and yet they were so far from him. He dreamt of seeing them up close, but the Protector demanded he remain, saying that he would be destroyed out of disgust and fear. The Protector kept him alive, taught him about the cruel world, and kept the cruel world from seeing him.

And yet…

He still wished to meet people. They lived their lives in the village, content, happy. He was trapped in the tower by the commands of the Protector, the only one who cared. What else could he do. The Protector told him that he had to stay in there because the Protector couldn’t defend him out there.

But the boy in the blue mask dreamed of leaving. He wanted to repent for this so much, to be freed of this desire. He should have been grateful. He had seen his face beyond the mask. It was hideous and unnatural. He didn’t deserve the Protector’s kindness if he was so ungrateful. That was what he knew was true.

And yet…

Every single day, he dreamed of going amongst them. Freely walking with others, talking with the townspeople. He knew them all by now, if not by name, by face and by deeds.

The miller had a daughter who he was teaching the trade to, a tradition that had no doubt been going on for generations. The fisherman and his partner always awoke at the crack of dawn and began their day, waving cheerily and silently as they pulled their catch out for the day. The blacksmith waited until the sun rose to begin his work, but he woke early to prep the fire, all in deference to the schedules of the others.

The boy’s eyes watered behind his mask as he once again wound the clock. He dreamed every day of running alongside the children, racing to a performance by a traveling performer. Every day, he wished to wake up and see a face like those of the people beneath the tower, a face that was not marred or cursed in any way. The face of someone who couldn’t be hated.

He wanted to fish with the fishermen. He wanted to buy bread from the baker and his wife and feel the sun truly upon his face, rather than the cold, filtered light that managed to make it through the windows in the faces of the clock. All the boy in the blue mask wanted was to be free to go through the village. Not even the whole country, or the world. He just wanted to be able to walk through the village like one of them.

He knew all of their faces and what they did. The baker’s daughter was the apprentice of the tailor, whose shop had frequent clients, not just from the village, either. People from out of the village would come in and leave, just for his cloth. The farmer’s son milked the cow every morning at the crack of dawn before helping his father till the fields. The shepherd boy would move his flock through the field. The weaver’s husband worked the spindle to make her thread for her cloth, which she then made into elaborate tapestries of beauty.

He knew all of these people, not by name, but by face as he watched through the windows of the clocktower.

And yet…

He wanted to go amongst them, even if it was just once. Perhaps it was strange, he had no basis for comparison for whether it was or not, but every night, he had the same dream. He dreamed of having a face like theirs and go freely amongst them, just once, shouting and laughing, cheering and even crying like them.

None of them knew how lucky they were. They were able to go wherever they pleased. They could leave the village, if they liked, they could see the stars clearly.

Every day, he felt so trapped, so alone. The Protector only came to resupply his stocks of food and clothing, and teach him the same sort of lessons. He only wanted to spend a single day with them, free to do as he dreamed. To eat fresh food, to walk along the river. He knew it was a selfish wish, but he felt that he’d be willing to have just this one day to join the people he dreamed of joining in their amazing lives in that world of sunshine. He wanted to drink from the river, to climb a tree.

None of them even knew that he was there. The Protector made sure of that to ensure that he was never troubled by the mobs that would destroy him as the monster he was. None of them knew that he would give everything he had for just one day of their lives. He would be content with what he deserved for being a monster, just to spend a single day with them. Was that too much to ask?

He only wanted the one day, just the one day. Surely whatever god it was that made him into this monstrosity could be merciful enough to give him that one day. That was all he asked for. Just one day. He would be content with just that one day. It would be enough to make his life bearable. He didn’t need more than that. He would go among them, treasuring the freedom just for that day, and he’d be content until the day he died.

He would never ask for anything again after that. All he needed was that one night.

He removed his mask to wipe off the tears from his face and from the interior of the mask. Once that was done, he oiled the gears and replaced all of the tools.

And then there was a thud of the door to his chamber being shut. A single screwdriver fell from his case at that sound. He quickly placed his mask back upon his face, curious as to why the Protector was there, despite having already made his visit for the two weeks. He stood straight before pausing in horror. That was not the Protector. It was the baker’s daughter, who looked as surprised to see him as he was to see her.

“Are you okay?” she asked, “Are you the one who winds the clocks?”

He nodded mutely.

“Hello,” she said slowly, before extending her hand, “I’m Marian.”

He shook it, shocked that she was willing to consort with a masked abomination.

“What’s your name?” she pressed.

“Boy,” he replied, offering what the Protector called him.

She seemed a tad taken aback by that, but she smiled and said, “Nice to meet you, Boy.”

At the time, he did not know it, but that was the moment that his life was going to change.


	7. Somewhere Out There

Song: [Somewhere Out There](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RkI-B2JWSZI&feature=youtu.be) from An American Tail

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/29293914#workskin): [Through Heaven's Eyes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bHU7oPA-l1E&feature=youtu.be)

 

He slowly wound the key in his chest in a bid to keep going. A little girl’s creation. That’s what he was. A small, clockwork soldier. Somewhere out there, she was looking for him. He was certain of that. At least, he was certain that he wished for that to be the case. Every night, since she had lost him, he had been trying to get back all this time. They would be together again.

o---o

She was searching. Somewhere out there, her creation was out there. She had built him to last. Somewhere out there, he was trying to make his way back to her. He was her toy soldier, her constant companion, and the closest thing she had to family. He had to be coming back. With luck, they would meet up with one another. The pale moonlight hung over her. They would be together again.

o---o

Somehow, despite the situation, he did not feel alone whenever he sequestered himself somewhere to rewind his spring at night. Looking at the stars that dotted the heavens, the toy soldier was certain that they were sharing the same sky. He knew she believed in God. Perhaps she was praying to bring them back together. He wasn’t sure about the God thing, but he still wished upon the North Star every night, as if the magic that the stories claimed of it would be able to reunite them.

He did not know where she was, but he knew that she was so very far away from him. She had to be looking for him. She had to be. He had faith in her, but if the star would help them along, it would have been greatly appreciated. He wasn’t sure what family was, per se, as he had never actually seen a family up close, but he felt that the sentiment was the same as what he felt when they were together. And yet… Somewhere out there, she was far from him, at least from his perspective, yet she felt so close when he thought on the North Star and the stories of its magic that she’d taught him. It was as if she were there, even when she wasn’t.

He wondered if that feeling of closeness was what love was.

o---o

She was hoping against hope that they wouldn’t be parted for too long. He was, in some way, a part of her, and she wanted him returned to her. Her first companion, she had pieced him together from scraps and a broken tin soldier, and gave him a clockwork heart. Somewhere out there, he was searching for her. There was no way that he was broken on the road somewhere. That was absolutely not something that had happened. He was out there, and they would meet again, and they would never part again. She prayed every night for them to find one another. Each night, she would then look out the window and feel comforted as she thought on the stories of the North Star she had told him.

He was her family. They would be back together. They were both under the same sky, and they would be reunited.

o---o

It was another night as he wound his clockwork heart back up, readying himself for another fruitless search. His paint was scraped and his right arm was hanging loosely, but he continued, the tune of the music box that made up his heart ringing gently through the air.

o---o

She was restless that night as she snuck out of the orphanage to search the streets in the pale light of the full moon, when she heard it. His tune. She raced towards the small alley to find the source, already knowing that it could only be one thing

o---o

Gentle hands picked him up. A familiar face smiled at him softly. They were together again at last.

o---o

She smiled at him as she picked him up. His arm was slightly damaged and his paint was slightly scratched up, but he was alive. They were together again at last.


	8. Aisling's Song (Pangur Bán)

Song: [Aisling's Song (Pangur Bán)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=32DM5tNeHBA&feature=youtu.be) from The Secret of Kells

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/29317578#workskin): [Once Upon A December](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XR6imPYq4_0&feature=youtu.be)

 

The Forest was old. It was all-encompassing. And deep within it was The Girl. She was ethereal, unnatural, and natural all at once, the very essence of the forest in an almost human form. She changed with the seasons, her coloration ever changing. At this moment, it was winter, and so was she as she walked along the border of the Forest, with eyes the shone with countless stars within them. Outside of the forest was the Village and The Boy. He was something important to her, in a way, but he was of the Village in the same way that she was of the Forest. Of the two, he was the unchanging, and that was why they needed each other. It had been winter too long.

The people of the village feared losing him to the forest, losing the essence of the Village to the wild, ever-changing woods, the symbol of their god’s love, so they placed him within the bell tower within the heart of the Village, where he could not leave, and thus she could not reach him.

Her heart ached for her friend, for they were not supposed to be confined in one part of themselves. It was wrong. She felt him along their border, however. He was her Village, and she was his Forest. The bodies were only their essence, not themselves. She was the woods and the deer, and the rabbits and wolves. He was the stone, and the wood, and the fields and pastures. But his walls now held iron, and the locks to the bell tower held silver, barring her entry without his personal welcome.

But something of his was in her realm. And she could feel something that belonged to his land making its way through the border. It was not him, but it might bear an opportunity, so she pursued the escaped creature, only to find the white cat of a monk that had managed to slip through the small hole in the stone walls.

The Girl picked it up and began to sing her enchantments upon it, hoping that the Boy would forgive her the transgression upon one of the creatures of his land.

She sang softly to the cat, running her fingers gently through the fur as she changed it. The winter was swift and cold, but it was also a time of winds and mists and shadows. Her song changed the creature to a spirit, one bound to her will, at least for the time. It would not be a permanent enchantment, but it was necessary. He was her Village. She was his Forest. They needed to see each other. They needed to come together once again.

The cat did as the Girl wished, obeying her song and going where she could not. It entered the Village, and crept into the shadows, the mist concealing it from sight. The people did not notice, more concerned with the bitter cold of the winter, a bitterer cold than the sort that they were used to. The autumn had been short, and now the winter was lasting longer than it should have, which had only increased their certainty that it was for the best that they kept the Boy where they had him.

The guard posted at the bell tower stirred slightly in his bed at the chill as the cat continued to follow the haunting song within its head, stealing the ring of keys from the hook at his hip.

It moved silently, unlocking doors as it moved deeper and deeper into the tower, until all the doors between the Boy and freedom were unlocked and opened. Then, the spirit led him to the gate, locking each door behind him, before leading him to his gate, the Girl’s song echoing in both of their minds as her song led them onward. The spirit unlocked the gate and replaced the key, before returning through the hole from whence it came. Once it had done so, it was changed back to its natural state as the Boy opened the gate to see the Girl waiting for him. Neither of the pair spoke as he raced through his gate to their border and embraced her.

At that, while he remained the same as ever, she bloomed, winter’s frost fading from her as greens and reds and brilliant blues spread. She was his ever-changing Forest. He was her ever-constant Village. Two halves of one whole. And winter fell, bringing spring to the land at last.


	9. Wizards In Winter

Song: [Wizards in Winter](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XFLOh44P5z0&feature=youtu.be) by the Trans-Siberian Orchestra

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/29496900#workskin): [Journey to the Past](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7bCKBHvpNSg&feature=youtu.be)

 

The robot had been built a smile on its face, but wasn’t that always the case? The digital mimicry of a face, that expression forged by the lighting of a set of LED bulbs, was something that was well-known to never change. From her understanding, when they’d developed the machine for the frost-bound base, it was designed to always smile, despite the fact that it was meant to act as human as possible.

Frowns were apparently not the sort of expression that was welcome on that face. Still, if the robot had a complaint about that, it never voiced one. It was the previous administrator’s gift to her before he retired. Her predecessor, who was both her godfather and her mentor, was known as a bit of eccentric, but the gift was well-meant, and it was friendly enough, for a machine, even if it couldn’t speak.

Honestly, the machine didn’t do much of anything except maintain supplies, preparing food and keeping the base clean and generally maintaining the equipment.

She took to calling it the Nutcracker, since it wore a red winter coat and a black deerstalker hat that made it resemble the old toy. The rest of the crew were fond of it in their own way, but most steered clear of it, preferring to leave the machine to its own devices.

The Nutcracker, however, was a surprisingly inelegant design underneath. Clockwork to power the electric motor made sense to the eccentric old man, but she couldn’t help but ponder on how much energy was lost, converted to heat as the spring wound and unwound. But, its electronic components were tied into the system the old man had made, so it was frequently rewound like the grandfather clock in her study, another item left behind by her predecessor.

The man was known as an eccentric for a reason.

It was the coldest part of winter in the base when she was walking the compound that night. She couldn’t say what it was that motivated her to do so, but through the halls she went, rather than simply pacing her office as she would do in the rare instance where she would wake up in the middle of the night.

She walked in the silence, the fluorescent lights keeping her from traveling in the dark.

Idly, she wondered if the Nutcracker was still running, or if it had already wound down. Then, in the distance, she heard the sound of what could only be described as music being played, despite the fact that there were no instruments to play. Curious, she silently made her way towards the room from which the music emanated. It was only a matter of seconds before she realized that the music was coming from the large storeroom, where they stored all of the replacement parts for equipment, tools, and other such items.

She knew that it definitely couldn’t have been someone who meant ill to the rest of the base. They were in a small, enclosed camp too far from any other base for anyone to want to bother them, particularly in the dead of winter.

Despite this, she moved silently, only opening the door with just a crack wide enough to see the inside without whoever it was noticing. It could have gone without note that she was shocked by the display before her.

Self-running instruments played, forged from what she noticed were clearly the broken pieces of outdated equipment that had been set aside to be scrapped for parts if necessary. The music played through the room, but there, at the center, the Nutcracker danced.

It swayed, spun, and glided across the ground, a peaceful smile, unlike the broad grin on its face most of the time, graced the Nutcracker’s features. It seemed almost alive at is swayed to and fro.

Step, kick, spin, leap, and spin again. On and on, the Nutcracker danced.

It was elegant. It was serene. It seemed to come alive to the music, and, for some reason, she was certain that it had been the one to forge the instruments that played the tune to which it danced. The energy built up more and more, as it slowly dawned on her that the song was truly a medley of so many tunes that she’d heard in her childhood.

And still the Nutcracker danced, the ticking of its clockwork heart keeping the tempo as it danced to the music. The music was moving faster and faster as it progressed. And still the Nutcracker danced.

She had never seen anything like it before. And then the Nutcracker paused in its dance, it’s leg still extended behind it, its arms still forming an arch as it had been when it was spinning, looking like it was emulating a music box. It turned its gaze towards the door and slowly lowered its arms and leg. It walked up to each instrument as quickly as it could and stopped them cold.

Not even thinking, she applauded the performance it had given, amazed by the display she had seen. The Nutcracker stared at her blankly for a moment before finally placing one arm behind its back, and removed its black deerstalker with the other, revealing the top of the black-painted head. It held the hat out to the side, the top down as it gave a simple bow and went to restart the instruments.


	10. Pat a Pan

Song: [Pat a Pan](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dAzNwUfWj48&feature=youtu.be) performed by Mannheim Steamroller

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/29678094#workskin): [It Feels Like Christmas](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WlRpGj7LWS4&feature=youtu.be)

 

The cold hung over the land. The people resolved to stay in their houses. That was when Winter came to play. The song echoed through the field, water dripping in buckets, music whistling through the wind with a gesture of her hand.

It was cold. Bitterly cold, now, as the snow fell, as the animals rested in their dens, the birds already flown south.

This was her land, now. It was silent, but for her music. The people of the land knew better than to leave their houses and the shelters when she brought her gift to the region.

And yet…

Somewhere out there, someone was out there, and they were bringing heat to the world. This defiance was almost an affront to Winter’s sensibilities.

The land was being blessed, and this person was able to watch Winter work her magic, but this worthless soul was bringing heat to her world, disrupting her song.

The song grew more intense as Winter began to hunt for the defiant one who dared to bring heat to her world. Through the streets, she chased her quarry, but the fiend was traveling, wherever they were. Every time Winter moved, trying to find her prey, she would feel the fade of the heat as she arrived, showing that the philistine had been there but was gone.

The music grew in intensity and volume as she chased the source, through alley and street, trying to find it, but each time, she would just miss her quarry. Eyes as blue as dangerous ice narrowed as she searched, but her prey was nowhere to be found. But then the heat had dissipated, and Winter was content once more. Whatever that had been, it was over now. She could return to her song with ease, content with the music that she spread through the land as she did her work. Icicles played fine tunes, the snowflakes practically singing as gates creaked and snow fell like drums upon the ground. She was content.

And yet…

The heat had returned, as small as the last, but still as meaningful, still as infuriating. She gave chase once more. She would find the source, she would destroy the heat, and she would punish the one responsible. A fur-clad hand gestured for the music to continue while she again gave chase. She sought her foe, but to no avail. Still, there was no sign of them.

She picked up her pace, intent on finding her foe, her desire to find them more intense as she raced from place to place, trying to find them. They would be found, and they would be punished. Then, her song would be able to continue in peace.

Again, the heat was lost, but Winter was on guard as she once again took command of the music, searching for the lingering remnants of the heat. After a moment, she felt the heat once more and raced towards it, eager to find her quarry and punish them…

Only to see a small matchgirl, shivering as she searched for more papers to burn with her wares. In one hand, she held a wooden box of matches within a shivering hand. The girl’s clothes were not much to speak of, either, being of a rather poor material and already wearing out at places, and in her match box were only two more matches and a single copper coin. Winter felt her frozen heart go out to the small girl with the hair as red as the flaming paper in her hand. She would die, if left alone, and she had been left alone. Winter recognized her as a wandering orphan she had seen sneak into the village when she had been traveling along the outskirts of the town, planning out her tour for this night. Somehow, this child found herself alone and outside of any shelter, and she was certain to die if left to her own devices.

Winter was invisible when she bore witness to the child’s plight now, as she had been when she saw the child, so the child did not see Winter remove her blue scarf and kneel down to place it around her neck. She did notice when Winter took her into her arms and lifted her off the ground, wrapping her within Winter’s own white fur cloak, finally able to see her as she did so.

“Come with me, child,” Winter said gently, “I will keep you safe. When we return to my castle, I shall fit you with warm clothes. Rest for now. We’ll be there soon.”


	11. A Mad Russian's Christmas

Song: [A Mad Russian’s Christmas](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6P9xxJ4V7no&feature=youtu.be) by the Trans-Siberian Orchestra

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/29852829#workskin): [Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0RkSy6ElNIY&feature=youtu.be)

 

The night had begun, and the ballerina paused in her spin, the music winding down to a final stop. Once it had, she lifted herself off the ground and began to dance in earnest. It was her routine and, despite her continuous performances during the day, she truly did love to dance. The painted wooden doll danced to her own son, the song that always played in her heart, even when she danced to the plain twinkling of her music box.

It was then that the clockwork tin soldiers began to march out of their own case, a novel experience, to say the least. Of all the new toys from Christmas in the Young Mistress’s room, they had been the most reticent when they had been left alone at night, outside of the Nutcracker that she held dear, himself. Even the porcelain doll moved more often than they did. Yet, tonight, they were marching, for whatever reason. Each moved in perfect step with one another, their boots softly clacking against the ground. Each leapt out with an ease that seemed practiced, but for one. One of the troops had been made with a single leg, no doubt a result of a deficit of tin in the toymaker’s shop, and, in its place, was a wooden leg, well carved, but wooden and less able to balance than the tin one.

It was this one that nearly toppled over, causing her to pause in her dance to catch him before he fell. The look he gave her was one of awe before he gave a slight salute and shouldered his toy rifle. He glanced at her one more time as he rushed to rejoin his brethren, a slight smile on his face.

She tried to dance once more, but something about this entire affair had drawn her attention. The whole room had seemingly gone silent, taking care to return to their shelves and the like, but she had no idea why that was. So, she went to find out what all of this silence was about.

When she arrived, she was shocked to see the soldiers were engaged in combat with an army of rats, of all creatures, with the Nutcracker acting as their general as he led them into battle. Off to the side, she could almost swear that she saw a small version of the Young Mistress, but she was more focused on finding the poor soldier that she had rescued earlier. As she stood hidden, trying to locate him, she watched in horror and awe as the battle raged horrifically. Swords against bayoneted rifles with no powder. It was a scene out of a nightmare as the enemies attacked as viciously as they could, trying to smash the soldiers to pieces while the soldiers, themselves, tried to gut the rats while the Nutcracker fought what appeared to be their king, a rat with a monstrous gleam in its eye.

It took some time, and through all of this, she tried to find the soldier with the wooden leg, but he seemed to have vanished from the fight entirely. And then, she saw him. There, on the ground, his wooden leg split in two, with the section beneath the knee lying a good distance from him, split by a mouse’s sword.

Despite this, he was holding his own as best he could, blocking with his bayonet before they could perform a strike to break one of the joints holding his other parts to him. But he was in danger. He could only fight for so long from the ground, and everyone there knew it. The ballerina knew that there was only one option. She weaved through the field as if she were dancing, dodging any rat’s blind attempt to slash at her as she made her way towards the bottom half of his leg. Once she had it, she performed five perfect spins at once as she swung the leg at the rat hovering over him, knocking it to the ground with as much force as possible before helping the soldier up, placing his arm over her shoulder to keep him balanced as she led him from the battlefield to repair his leg as best she could.

When she had gotten him a bit away from the battlefield, she mused on how it was very fortunate that the Young Mistress had a role of tape at the ready as she taped his leg back together.

He gave a polite nod of thanks before rising to return to the battle. Understanding what needed to be done, she simply took out one of the hat pins that the Young Mistress had on her dresser and followed him. Whatever was happening, this was her home, and she would defend it.

They headed back into battle, him limping but standing steadfast, and her spinning and leaping as she fought the mice and rats. And then, just as suddenly, the tiny Young Mistress had thrown something at the Mouse King, distracting him before he could deliver the final blow to the Nutcracker. The Nutcracker capitalized on this, slaying the Mouse King, which made all the surviving rats and mice flee, while the Nutcracker, himself, seemed to undergo a transformation into a handsome young man, looking like no older than the Young Mistress as a beautiful carriage pulled by horses that looked as if they were made of glass arrived, and the pair of them rode off into the shadows. It was at this point that the soldiers began to tend to their wounded and move the dead rodents out of the area.

She, for her part, patted the soldier with the wooden leg on the shoulder with a smile, before he lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to it with his painted lips. Using his rifle as a crutch, he then began to walk with to the toy castle with the mirror for a pond, before taking a seat on one of the benches that had been placed there. The adventure was over, and they could rest, now.


	12. Christmas Eve/Sarajevo

Song: [Christmas Eve/Sarajevo](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MHioIlbnS_A&feature=youtu.be) by the Trans-Siberian Orchestra

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/30021204#workskin): [God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ku7ohU1IGls&feature=youtu.be)

 

“Shall we dance?” she asked, gesturing towards the least damaged ground in the area.

“Now?” he asked, seeming confused.

“Well, I don’t suppose there’s going to be much land left soon enough,” she noted dryly, “So, let’s dance.”

“There’s chaos in the streets,” he noted, “The forces of Hell, itself, are at our town’s door, demons and monsters hunt mankind as we speak, and you want to dance in the chaos?”

“You’re forgetting something important,” she replied plainly, pulling him to his feet, “It’s Christmas, and we should celebrate that. If we allow the ugliness of our situation to defeat even beauty, then all is lost.”

He let out a slow, calm breath, and joined hands with her as they began to dance.

Step, twirl, dip, step.

Step, twirl, dip, step.

It was a beautiful display. The two moved freely, easily weaving amongst the ruins of the town hall as they danced through the street to the sound of a cello playing somewhere that might not have truly been there at all.

Step, twirl, dip, step.

Step, twirl, dip, step.

With every move, they seemed to come to life more and more as they moved freely between rubble and ruins, their dance beginning to engulf the city.

The demons were not pleased by this. And yet, they still continued their dance.

Step, twirl, dip, step.

Step, twirl, dip, step.

The demons snarled, the werewolves howled, and the vampires hissed. They were not welcomed to travel freely and unhindered. Some charged at them, and the warm-up was over. The true dance began.

He spun her out, kneeling to her as she pulled out two guns, shooting silver bullets into so many targets without missing, all while she turned in the spin, before stopping in her spin and stepping towards him with a grin.

She marched forward with a graceful ease, shooting any that came too close. She placed her hand on his face and he rose to his feet, drawing a pair of blades as he did so. She was leading, now, gliding forward as he stepped backwards to match her stride.

His sword plunged into the face of a demon, which hissed in pain before bursting into flames. She reloaded her guns as he slashed another across the chest, banishing it back to Hell.

And the dance continued.

They moved towards one another, face to face as they rushed ahead. She ducked under one blade masterfully as he swung it forward, impaling a ghoul as it rushed towards them. The dancers clasped wrists before he spun her forward once more, an act that ended in a flip as she shot another set. It was then that he unbuttoned his coat, revealing several silver blades gleaming in the moonlight. They nodded to one another before they continued the dance.

Her movements were smooth and fluid, all twirls and flips as she tore through the enemies, the fluttering of her dress making her movements impossible to truly read as she slaughtered demons and the like with her blessed silver bullets. He, meanwhile, moved gracefully and with steps that were quick and sharp, as if he were trying to distract them. Occasionally he even threw blades over his shoulder as if he was merely doing all of this for the spectacle, with each blade hitting the mark.

And the dance continued. They tore through the demons, dancing across the city with a fluidity and grace that made the battle easy to forget for an observer, so effortlessly did it blend into their movements.

They were elegant.

They were precise.

They were dancing.

The level of trust between the two of them could not be understated as they danced through the battlefield. Bullets whizzed just past his head as he passed along a row of demons, his blades gleaming silver and ruby as they cut the enemies down to shreds. Blades would fly past her as she spun, each occupying the exact spot she’d been occupying just a second before.

And like that, they were finished. The fiends had all fallen, the city was saved.

And still the dance continued.

Step, twirl, dip, step.

Step, twirl, dip, step.

They slowed down in their dance, their weapons once more sheathed and holstered, his coat buttoned back up, the safety on each gun locked back into position.

Step. Twirl. Dip. Step.

Step. Twirl. Dip. Step.

The song slowed, and they, in turn slowed to a halt. They bowed to one another and joined hands as they walked off into the winter snowfall.

The dance was done.


	13. Kuolema tekee taiteilijan

Song: [Kuolema tekee taiteilijan](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HgqOy3OCoio&feature=youtu.be) by Nightwish

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/30252189#workskin): [Seven Crimes and Punishments](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=48ZMa-qYebY&feature=youtu.be)

                                                                 

The silence of the night reached the spirit. Out in the woods, there was silence, and there was peace. Neither of which were able to truly get through, however. The spirit had other things on its mind. Out in the woods, there was a child, lost and wandering.

The spirit flew to where it could hear her ragged breath. She had fled the wolves that she had heard moving in the shadows, but now she was in the middle of trying to rest after having managed to make good her escape, as far as she could tell, deep in the heart of the forest. The night hid all in shadows, even those who did not belong in the forest.

The truth, however, was that the girl belonged to the forest, more than the wolves and the trees, and the earth beneath them, the girl belonged to the forest. She had been an orphan of the village nearby, but she did not belong to the village any more than a house belonged to the forest.

The spirit continued following the girl once she rose to her feet, ready to continue trying to find her way out of the forest. As if she could.

She would be no more able to find her way out of the forest at this time than an organ could leave a body. She belonged to the forest. She pressed onward.

And still the spirit followed. It was not time, yet.

The girl glanced around, trying to find her way. She had left stones along the path to mark her path earlier, and now she sought them out fervently. She needed to find the trail. That was what she thought, and she didn’t know why. Something was off to her, and she needed to get out of there as soon as possible.

The spirit followed her still. The time was soon approaching.

Where was the path? The girl searched desperately. Some part of her was begging her to escape. Yet another part was trying to make her stay. Somewhere deep inside of herself, she felt that she was supposed to be there. She needed to get away before whatever it was that gently prodded her to stay persuaded her to do it.

Whatever it was, she did not doubt that it was herself. But she did not want it. Whatever it was, she knew that she didn’t want it.

And still the spirit followed. Soon.

The girl searched as best she could. Somewhere. The stones had to be somewhere.

And yet, somehow, she felt that she was getting firther from escape from the forest and the quiet voice in her mind.

 _Stay_. The voice spoke softly. _You belong here. You know you do. Why run from the forest?_

She even knew the answer. Some part of her did. She was sure that she knew the answer.

The spirit followed still. It knew that this was to be. It was always to be.

The girl heard the sound of a bear’s growl nearing, and she once again raced away.

Again, she found herself in the center of the forest.

This was destiny. The spirit knew and still, it followed.

The girl sat upon the roots of the tree, clutching her head in her hands. She did not know what to do, now. Everywhere she turned, she kept finding her way back to the tree at the heart of the woods. Some part of her knew she found herself there for a reason. She had run at the sound of animals thrice, and thrice she had found herself running to the tree. Why did she keep finding herself at that tree?

 _You know why._ The voice spoke gently, as if trying to coax her into understanding. _You’ve known why this is so all this time._

She tried to ignore the voice, but it was her own, and she knew it was right. All of this was familiar to her. She knew this forest well. And yet she found herself lost in these woods. She knew something made this so, but she couldn’t grasp what it was.

And still, the spirit did not approach her. It would be time soon.

A sense of calm came to find its place in the girl’s heart, and she wasn’t sure why that was, but she felt as if something was right about this whole situation. She was meant to be in this forest, at its very heart, for a reason. She knew that much.

And then, somehow, she came to know what she needed to do.

The spirit continued to watch.

She approached the tree, laying her hand upon its ancient bark. It had been placed her long ago, and it had grown mighty, giving birth to so many saplings, which in turn made their own saplings once they had become trees, until the forest was what it was now. She knew this, because she was the one who planted it. The queen of the forest. The spirit of growth of this land.

She stood tall as leaves fell, forming a dress and a cape that showed her full power and regal grace despite being a child.

The spirit floated down and bowed to the queen, her crown of flowers in its hand as it placed it upon her brow. She was whole, once more.


	14. Kuolema tekee taiteilijan (another tale)

Song: [Kuolema tekee taiteilijan](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HgqOy3OCoio&feature=youtu.be) by Nightwish

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/30285984#workskin): [Seven Crimes and Punishments](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=48ZMa-qYebY&feature=youtu.be)

 

The world was silent. Night had fallen, and it was time. Every night, She arrived somewhere, singing Her song peacefully, though none could hear Her. None, except those who were supposed to hear Her. The spirits of the dead rose from where they rested, all throughout the cemetery.

Some walked mournfully, lives ended before they could do all they had desired. Time had run out, and it was time for them to let go. They were not ready to rest, they felt. There was so much they didn’t get to experience, but time had come to an end for them, and they held their lanterns above their heads to light their way ahead.

Others walked solemnly, ready for the end and to see what came next. They were not sad, not really, but they were not filled with great joy, either. They were not upset to have died, as they felt their lives were full, but they were not content, per se. They were unsure, but they simply moved forward, and they held their lanterns above their heads to light their way ahead.

Yet more seemed tired, worn by their travels through the land of the living, ready for the rest that they had sought in life. These did not walk on their own power. These, instead, were aided by figures that sang alongside Her. They were weary, and they needed help, so they were helped, the figures helping the spirits keep on their feet, and they helped them as they moved forward, holding their lanterns above their heads to light their way ahead.

Others still were at peace. They had lived their lives and they were content. Lives lived to their fullest, or to the fullest that they wished to live. They walked confidently, joyously. They had lived life as they had wished, and were content to go off to their personal great beyond. Some even danced to her song while they moved forward, holding their own lanterns above their heads to light their way ahead.

All moved forward to the song, all ready to meet what came after they had finished their journey through life. Warriors of all manners of battles with thoughts of a peaceful land to rest or a mead hall where songs were sung in their honor. Lovers who sought the one who had been lost to them long ago.

The old felt the weight of their age lift from them with each step they took. Those who were tired felt the fatigue slowly fade from their weary spirits. Peace began to fill all their hearts as they followed Her while she sang her song, accompanied by the figures that were unknowable.

They eventually arrived at the ship, an ethereal and magnificent thing that called to them, bidding them to board. Once all the souls were accounted for, the ship set sail across the sea, illuminated by the light of the full moon. Still she sang, a gentle tune as a lantern lit in the crow’s nest to light their way ahead. The ship set sail, and then it began to rise into the air.

Soon, the ghostly ship was sailing through the sky, along an invisible ocean towards the unknown in the moonlight. And still, she sang, and still the lantern lit their way ahead. They would arrive soon, and they would each find exactly what they sought when they reached the other side. It was time for them to enjoy their rest. Eternity beckoned.


	15. Spirit Never Dies

Song: [Spirit Never Dies](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EB92K56U1Vo&feature=youtu.be) by Masterplan

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/30455739#workskin): [Red Like Roses Part II](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=euuxPokAeIA&feature=youtu.be)

 

She walked in slowly with her sword raised. Everything had brought her to this point, and now it was time for her to test her mettle.

“What brings you here, child?” the Baron demanded.

She did not respond, only narrowing her eyes as she took a firm stance.

“Many have tried before,” he said, reading her actions, removing his long black cape, revealing solid black armor and a spiked mace. With one swing, he attempted to swat her down…

Only for her to flip out of the way, just barely missing the point of one of the spikes. Immediately, she swung her sword, only to be blocked by the haft of the mace with an absolute ease. She ducked under another swing as her sword was knocked to the side, only to feel a blade pierce her side. Pulling back, she saw that he held in his other hand a dagger, coated in her blood. She slumped to the floor.

“Pitiful,” he chuckled, before turning his back on her body as he cleaned his blade.

The sound of her moving caused him to pause, turning sharply to see her standing there, bleeding and wobbling, yet still not giving up.

He rolled his eyes and walked back to her, swinging his mace once again, hearing her ribs crack as it made contact.

The fire still did not leave her eyes as she stumbled back to her feet.

He threw the dagger, striking her square in the eye. This time she fell over and seemed to finally die.

And then she was back up again, a smirk on her face as she withdrew the dagger. Her clothes were still coated in her blood, but she seemed lively, ready to fight again. He realized that he could not consider as nearly as much a joke as he considered most adventurers at this point, and tossed aside his mace, casting spell after spell at her as she dodged each and every attempt as she advanced for each step he retreated, always moving forward. He threw fire, ice, wind, anything and everything he could cast, but what she couldn’t dodge, she staggered through.

When she fell this time, blasted by a barrage of fireballs that none could have survived, he was certain that he had succeeded. Surely, surely, she was dead, now.

And yet, when the smoke cleared, there stood a girl with bleeding eyes over a face with no real flesh over it anymore, her leather armor blacked, holding her sword aloft as she continued towards him.

As her face restored itself like something out of a nightmare, he realized that he only had a few options left.

He summoned his familiars, hoping the demons would be able to defeat her.

Claws, and eyes and too many teeth burst forth. Beasts that had devoured many a hero and heroine charged towards the girl as she grinned at the sight. As the first of the four lunged at her, she leapt into the air, flipping as she did so, before she threw her sword at it, piercing the base of the skull, killing the hound of hell before she landed on its head, using it as a diving board before its corpse collapsed.

Claws of another tore at her, trying to tear her down as she bent over backwards, slicing off the offending limb, before piercing beneath the jaw of another that tried to bite her head off.

She rolled out from underneath it before it could even fall. A slash and the fourth was decapitated. The second, the one she had maimed, tried to flee, limping back towards the summoning circle as she walked towards it with no real hurry. She pierced it through the heart from its back before walking towards the Baron.

Desperately, he drew his enchanted sword, hoping that he could still best her, could still come out of this victorious. He could always get new summons. Hellhounds were nothing for a Beastmaster of his caliber. All he had to do was best her, and he would be fine. He was the Baron Nocturne, the Tyrant of Ostrantor. He had seen the deaths of countless heroes and heroines, and he would see countless more.

He managed to withdraw his blade just in time to block her strike. But she was a master of the blade, it seemed, blocking his every strike, just as he managed to stop her just as simply. This fight seemed like it should have been easy, as she had fought so much to get there, while he was still relatively fresh, yet she didn’t seem to tire.

And then, she made a mistake. She swung too wide, and her guard was down. He capitalized, plunging his blade into her heart, the leather nothing against the enchantments on his blade. It was finally over…

Yet she smirked as she bled through her mouth, grabbing his sword with the gauntlet of her left hand as she pulled herself further along the blade, not caring about the damage she was doing to herself.

He had been frozen in horror at the display for too long. She had gotten close enough, and she shoved his own dagger into his throat and twisting. As he stared at her, drowning in his own blood, she smiled at him, slowly withdrawing the blade from her chest, the wounds to herself and her outfit vanishing.

The Young Miss grinned as she felt the Baron’s black soul join the billions within her gauntlet. That was another tyrant slain by her hand. Idly she examined his sword, before removing the sheath from where it sat on his throne and placed it upon her other hip. She could use a blade like that in her quest…


	16. Man's Road

Song: [Man’s Road](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0wQ0j33bTd4&feature=youtu.be) from The Last Unicorn

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/30642921#workskin): [Megalo Strike Back](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WK2iZbz70sM&feature=youtu.be)

 

The knight walked along the trail, chasing the sun as it rose. The knight had traveled many a mile, and fought many a battle but it was not time to end it, yet. There was always more evil to fight. There was always more danger out there.

The knight couldn’t recall the last time he had rested fully. Too long, that much was certain. The once gleaming armor was now tarnished, never to shine again as a wooden staff kept the knight propped up as he moved forward. There was always more evil to fight. There was always someone in need of help.

It was difficult for him to keep going. He had no home to return to. Others had places to stay, but he was alone in the world. The knight never really had permanent companionship, save himself. He had nowhere to stay, and he was tired. So tired. But there was always more evil to fight. There was always somewhere else he was needed.

He felt the weight of all that had happened in the past trying to push him into the grave. He had been traveling for so long, but he could not stop. He would never really be able to stop. He was unable to rest, not as long as the world needed him. There was always more evil to fight. There was never a moment of peace as he would have liked it.

The knight was a hunter, of sorts. He fought for the sake of others, facing against demons, and fiends, and the like. He knew his trade well, and he knew that monsters weren’t always creatures. Sometimes, monsters were simply human, and he needed to stop them. There was always more evil to fight. There was always some villain waiting in the shadows.

He wasn’t really alive, in the sense that most would say he was alive. He was moving, that was true, but, even when he ate, it didn’t really do much more than sustain him. He had vowed that he would keep going until he had managed to find a worthy apprentice to train and trained them to the point of mastery, but none had proved themselves worthy. And there was always more evil to fight. There was never a soul with the fire that had been within his own.

And then, it happened. He heard a commotion in the latest village he had come upon, and he moved to investigate. It was a wooded area by a village, close enough to the village that no one worried if their children kept to that area, and little heed was paid to the area. There, standing between a crying, dirty child with a doll missing an arm and several children with wooden swords, led by another child holding the limb in question, was a girl not much older than the rest of them, brandishing a solid stick not much longer than the toy sword in question.

“Give the arm back,” she said coldly, “She didn’t do anything to you. If none of you want to get hurt, you will give it back, and leave.”

“Gonna help her, orphan girl?” the ringleader demanded with a scoff, “You can’t fight all of us!”

The child kept her stance firm as she said, “Give. The Arm. Back. Now. This is your only warning.”

“Make me,” the ringleader demanded, sticking the arm in a coat pocket.

The girl charged, and the ringleader swung their toy at her, certain of their victory. Three strikes. The wrist of the sword hand, the forehead, and the last a shove to the ground before she tossed the wooden sword aside and took the arm, tossing it to the other child before sending her off. But there were more for her to fight.

The others began to advance, only to be knocked back while she attempted to move through them. Soon however, their superior numbers forced her onto the defensive. They were going to win, if things were left as they stood, so he made himself seen.

“Leave,” he demanded, causing them to flee at the sight of an armor-clad figure emerging from the trees as he had. Not disappointing him, the girl had remained, her stick raised as she tried to defend even those she had been fighting from this mysterious intruder.

“At ease, child,” he said, “I mean you no harm. I saw your battle, and was impressed. Why did you intervene?”

“It wasn’t fair,” she replied simply, “They were all picking on her, and she hadn’t done anything.”

“And yet you moved to defend them from me.”

“Because that’s the right thing to do,” she stated matter-of-factly.

“Indeed,” he said, “You could stand to learn a lot. Would you like to learn to protect people? It will not be an easy path, but you are the first I’ve seen to remind me of myself when I first took up this sacred duty. I am the White Knight, and I wish to teach you all I know.”

The determined fire in her eyes at the prospect told him that his search was over at last.


	17. Carry On Dancing

Song: [Carry On Dancing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iBn9n3q-gqU&feature=youtu.be) by Savage Garden

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/30820275#workskin): [Pas de Deux](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SCtS9Lr6D_Y&feature=youtu.be)

 

She entered the town with her weapons holstered. Her ragged green cloak, darkened by the rain that had been pouring earlier in the evening, enveloped her, hiding even her face in its shadows. She was an unknown to all but one.

Her nemesis.

The thief.

He rose from his seat outside of a tavern, throwing open his brown duster to reveal his own weapon, ready for use in this battle. She walked to the center of the main street of the town, the moonlight tearing through the remaining clouds, as if it wished to see what was to come.

No one spoke a word as the two met in the middle, ready for their battle.

There was silence, and there was motionlessness. Had one just stumbled into the town at that exact moment, they would be forgiven for assuming that the pair were statues built to commemorate some great battle of some sort.

And then, the ash from one onlooker’s cigarette fell to the ground, and it began.

There was suddenly emptiness where the two had once been, and flashes of moonlight shining all across the street.

Their blades met again and again, both trying to find purchase as their short blades locked with one another, only to separate with a leap before they tried again.

Both were proficient in dealing out death. They were artists, masters of killing, and beings with speeds that no untrained eye could witness, but neither were taking any damage.

The streets, however, were not handling it nearly as well.

Gashes appeared in the street as his giant sword attempted to rip her open, trees were reduced to splinters as her countless slashes with her paired short swords were barely evaded.

Every slash was dodged, every lunge countered, all within the blink of an eye.

On and on, the battle raged, with each intent on slaying the other. It was as if they were as invested in making it a spectacle as they were with ending the other’s life.

His coat was shredded, by this point, but the fight continued, and there were the occasional tears on her cloak, which still hid her form in its shadows, despite the intricate movements that she performed. When the torches were lit so that the people could see the battle more clearly, she looked like she was nothing more than a cloak, shadows, and her swords.

The battle was fought with hatred in every strike. That much, everyone was able to tell as they fought. There was a passion to this, but no one would mistake it for love. Each despised the other, and they didn’t care what got in their way as they tried to destroy one another. The people kept as far back as possible to avoid being gutted by the two fighters who were paying no mind to their surroundings.

All they wanted was the other dead. They clashed blades once again, the moonlight flashing when they met.

And then, there were droplets of red. Both stood still in the center of the street once again. Blood dripped from the man’s chin to his chest. She had drawn first blood.

But that wasn’t what had the pair’s attention. There, on the ground, was a small reliquary of some sort, clearly having been held by the halved string that now lay on the ground beside it. The man panicked at the sight of it, using his sword to toss it into the air as he threw dirt at her face in the exact same gesture. She was a blur, and the dust missed her while she leapt into the air, her gaze focused on the reliquary.

He prepared to leap, ready to attack her and reclaim the reliquary, only to scream in pain as one of her swords buried itself into both the ground and his foot, pinning him in place as she grabbed the reliquary, before spinning in the air and falling towards him with the remaining sword. He tried to stop her, tried to kill her before it was too late.

It was too late already.

The blade was sheathed within him, and she landed soundlessly on the ground. She had done it. The reliquary vanished within her cloak, and her tattered cloak became whole once more. Silver blades appeared in her hands as the man’s body rotted away, the stolen magic no longer able to preserve him. Pulling back her hood for the first time in so many centuries, she was able to see the moonlight through eyes that had been gone for as long as she sheathed her enchanted blades once more.

She was whole, again, and her quest could continue. She would defeat the Dracolich King. But she wouldn’t be able to do it alone. She needed others.


	18. Toy Soldiers

Song: [Toy Soldiers](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LvdLovAaYzM&feature=youtu.be) by Martika

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/30974331#workskin): [Hallelujah](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YrLk4vdY28Q&feature=youtu.be)

 

It wasn’t fair. He knew that he wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was created as a toy, when it started. A simple mechanical dancer, meant to be a pretty thing for the mistress’s daughter. But, then the decree was sent out, and all mechanical creations were to be remade into clockwork soldiers for the Queen of Gears. He was torn from the small mistress’s arms, and then torn apart piece by piece by the alchemists of the Queen, until he was an instrument of war that only bore his own face for the sake of convenience. There was no more dancing. He was only to swing the sword.

And onward he marched.

But he had once been beautiful once, and he had been made with love, and he had been loved. He was her confidante, but now he was just a soldier in the army, simple arrow fodder.

And onward, he marched.

He was a mechanical monstrosity. The Rebellion fought them frequently. He knew this, and aimlessly, he continued swinging his sword, because that was what he’d been made to do. But it wasn’t what he was made for. They would wind him up solely for the sake of bringing more bloodshed to the battlefield.

And onward, he marched.

Another battle began. His graceless movements continued unabated as the battle began once more. He was bound to fall eventually. That was the only thing that he could hope to think on. As he fought, he still thought on how he had once been a toy in the arms of a child, a companion and friend. All of that had been before this, however.

He swung his sword as his fellows were being torn apart by arrows and the like attacking from on high. He was certain that he would finally fall in this battle.

And onward, he marched.

Someday, he would be free. He would be able to stop this fighting, at long last. Yet, somehow, he had continued to remain unharmed, arrows just barely missing him, as he was not the same size as the others. He was the size of a child when he’d been built, and they hadn’t been able to do much to make him larger. His porcelain face wasn’t even scratched.

And onward, he marched.

There were less of them, now, and the rebels waiting at the gate proceeded to thin out the numbers further, shattering whatever they could.

And onward, he marched.

Yet, his spring seemed to catch when his blade locked with that of another rebel. He knew that face, even if the years had changed it. And somehow, he stopped, frozen solid by the sight of the small mistress. And then, he fell over, likely never to wake again.

And yet, there was a ticking again emanating from him after an unknowable amount of time. Looking with eyes that didn’t quite see at the moment, he noticed he was in a lab, among many of his kind. Toys. They were making them better. She, herself, was creating a frame that looked like what used to be his body. He would dance for her again.


	19. Love In Any Language

Song: [_Love in any Language_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JzNLUaGtaCU&feature=youtu.be) by Sandy Patty

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/31173081#workskin): [Kiss The Girl](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TrRbB-qUJfY&feature=youtu.be)

 

It was a beautiful display of pageantry. So many dressed in their masks and beautiful clothes. So many people of all walks of life were welcomed into the courtyard, where the King and Queen held the ball once every year. None who came with good intentions were turned away. The only rule was that one needed to enter with a mask. No one knew where that particular tradition came from, but it had been there for so long that none bothered to question it. And so, the ball was held always.

And it was here that he entered slowly, meekly. He was the servant boy, trained from birth to only do as the princess ordered. He was as much a piece of chattel as a journal. That was the lesson that the steward frequently drilled into his head before sending him off to perform his duties. As if he needed to recall that. He was the Princess’s servant. His sole purpose was to be her playmate and confidante, then her guard and spokesman once she was the Queen. He was content with this arrangement. She was his friend, and he would fight and die for her, if she demanded it.

Of course, he firmly believed that she’d do so without a proper cause, so that willingness could technically just be practicality.

Nonetheless, that didn’t matter to him, tonight. Tonight, she didn’t have need of him. She wasn’t going to have to talk to anyone, as all that she needed to do was sit in attendance and dance if she were so inclined, and all she would need to do for that would be tap someone on the shoulder.

He was free to mingle with the people if he were so inclined, but he kept rather close to where she was sitting, if only because he felt comfortable with her close by.

As if she could recognize his thoughts, she turned towards the column on which he’d been leaning, before gesturing he come closer.

Once he’d approached her as she had bidden, her hands began to move freely as her mouth formed an amused smirk beneath the mask that covered only the top half of her face.

“You are aware that you’re free for the night, aren’t you?” she signed, “You are able to mingle and dance.”

“I’m mingling,” he replied, signing as he spoke aloud, “I’m having a conversation, after all.”

“I see, I see,” she chuckled silently, “But what of the dancing?”

“Well, I haven’t been invited, to do so,” he answered, “I suspect that I might be invisible.”

“Well, that simply will not do,” she said, an amused twinkle in her eyes as she rose from her seat, to his surprise, “What would they say if the Princess’s personal servant did not dance? They would assume that I was served by a graceless fool. Come on, then. We have my honor to protect.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” he replied, knowing that she wouldn’t let him get away so easily. Once she had a plan, there was no dissuading her, a factor that made him certain that she would be a fantastic queen once she took the throne.

Once they were on the dance floor, they moved fluidly, the result of frequent lessons that she took and insisted he learned alongside her. This particular dance was a familiar one to them both, a dialogue of motion that they both developed over the course of the lessons. There was trust, and there was the sense of closeness that only spending so much of the day together could create. It was somewhat intimate, in its way, and neither would be quite able to say what it was that was said in this wordless language, but they were both content with it. It was simply something between the two of them, something they shared between the two of them. Even more than her signs or his spoken words, this was a communication of their absolute faith in the other.

This wordless language tied them together, even as the song finished. When she signed that she wished to return to her seat, he gave a slight bow and escorted her back to her seat, before suddenly becoming aware of the murmured, yet seemingly calm discussion between the king and queen as they returned, though he wasn’t sure what they spoke of. As long as they did not intend on removing him from his Princess’s side, he supposed their conversation did not affect him. It was likely something about some policy or another, after all.

The Princess, however, glanced at them with a speculative gleam in her eyes, before offering him a smile and signed to him once again. “If you’re going to stay close by, at least take your customary spot.”

“Yes, your Highness,” he replied with a slight bow before he took up a standing position beside her. Once he was in his place, she immediately began speaking with him, signing animatedly as she discussed the speculated historical context of the ball.

And it was in this way that the two of them spent the rest of their night, engaged in conversation or dancing, each content in the other’s company.


	20. The Power of Love

Song:  _[The Power of Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P0WVWbZ9ZAY&feature=youtu.be) _by Within Temptation

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/31350669#workskin): [I Know You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WcEkAn-FI8M&feature=youtu.be)

 

They both were always together, in a sense. Mirror images of a sort, despite not looking alike. They were counterparts, whatever else they were. And then the War of Magic had begun, and they did not wish to participate. Both sides did not like this.

He was light and rebirth. She was dark and decay, if you were to ask people about it. Yet they matched perfectly, and they would not be parted.

A sword of stars, a sword of emptiness. They should have crossed one another, but they did not.

Neither side was pleased with this.

And so, they fought, each tearing through their own to protect the other. He blocked divine swords, she pierced the hearts of the shadows.

In truth, their forms were not even their true forms. He looked to be a black-clad, dark figure with dull sunglasses, and she appeared pale and wore white, with sparkling diamonds about her neck.

It was, most in the war between Light and Dark magics would say, a bizarre display.

Their true forms, on the other hand, were a being of pure light, something that would blind those who tried to look upon it, and a void that occupied the same amount of space of the light. And yet, they fit together well. She ducked under a sword of starlight, while he slammed his blade into the offending party’s chest, disincorporating the being of light. She, in turn, shot bullets made of darkness into the chest of a shooter that was going to capitalize on his attention being turned elsewhere.

The assassins would not get them. They had both decided upon that when the war broke out. All they needed to do was break away from the fighting, move into a place where they would not be found, and they could wait for it to be over. This happened so frequently, the could almost set a clock to it.

The wars were always cropping up, and they were always finding themselves having to avoid taking sides. For they loved each other, and they could not bring themselves to harm one another any more than they could bring themselves to harm themselves. They were two halves of one whole, and they would destroy anything that tried to make them choose.  They would destroy those that tried to harm each other, and they would fight to keep one another safe for all time. And then, when the war was over, they would recreate the sides, hoping that they got it right, that time.

They were, after all, Light and Dark magic incarnate. It was in their nature to recreate the dreams of humanity, and they would do it again, and again. They loved one another, and they would do this again and again. She would destroy so that he could make the magic anew to match the minds of humanity once again, and he would create so that she could make them strive to create more. It was the nature of their love, the truest source of their power, and they would not grow tired of it.


	21. My Only Love

Song: [My Only Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uVSTULWphac&feature=youtu.be) from Sailor Moon (the one released in the 90s)

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/31550592#workskin): [All I Ask Of You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CnptZC341nM&feature=youtu.be)

[Enberlight's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13732128/chapters/31550139): [Sleeping Sun](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZMvkunOnkAM&feature=youtu.be)

 

It had been too long since the servant boy had seen her. Five years, two months, three weeks, and six days, to be precise. His Princess. In the time they were apart, only able to contact one another through letters that took so long to get from one to the other, he had realized why it was that the steward had so often reminded him of his station.

He loved her. It hadn’t been an epiphany, if he were being honest. It was simply an acceptance of a simple fact. And yet, he was simply her servant, sent on a long tour of training for his future duties as her bodyguard and translator. She, meanwhile, was buried in training in how to properly run her future kingdom.

She was his best friend, and he liked to believe that he was hers, as well. He wanted to stay by her side forever, never to part again. He wanted her face to be the first and last he saw every day, but he knew he was her servant and would only ever be her servant. To wish for more was selfish. And yet…

And yet he wished to be by her side until the end of time. He wished to be held in her embrace, and to grow old with her. He let out a soft smile at that thought as he ran his hand along the section of his carrying case that held all of her letters. At the very least, he would be by her side for a good while. He could content himself with loving her in secret, as long as he could still speak to her, still watch her hands move in an almost blur whenever she was enthusiastic about a topic, still watch her eyes light up when she was served her favorite meal, roast chicken, or dessert, chocolate cake.

He had missed her so much over all that time he had spent in training, but he could remember everything she’d told him, and had practically memorized the letters she’d sent that so thoroughly explored what’d she’d been doing between sending each of her letters and receiving each of his, which she would conclude with a wish for his training to be done.

Truly, he would never be able to devote himself to another the way he’d devoted himself to her, so he would simply be an old bachelor once he was on his deathbed.

He’d been so far away, but he was almost by her side once more. He was almost home.

As the carriage they had sent to collect him from the bastion on the edge of the kingdom, where he had been trained in just how to protect her, a bastion that had trained every last Royal Bodyguard and every single elite soldier and knight the kingdom had ever produced, he mused upon the dreams that taunted him with their impossible wonders. He dreamed of seeing her look upon him with the same love he felt for her, of her holding his hand in her own, of a gentle kiss every morning when they woke, and another before they slept. Deep within his heart, he always harbored those dreams, even when he hadn’t fully realized that they had been there.

Were he to be ordered to tell her how long he’d harbored those dreams, he would admit that he did not know, that they might very well have always been harbored within his heart and soul.

His thoughts were cut off when the carriage came to a stop and the footman opened the door, allowing him to step out with his bag and see her standing there, a beautiful grin spreading across her face before she began to sign to him.

“I’m glad you’re back,” she said, moving towards him with a solid regality, but in this woman, he still saw the girl he had been friends with for most of their lives, the only woman he’d ever love.

“I’m happy to be back,” he replied, signing alongside his words with the same fluidity he always had before almost shyly adding, “I missed you…”

“I missed you as well,” she signed before wrapping her arms around his neck in a surprising hug. He found himself responding in kind, all thoughts of propriety vanished from his mind.

And then, further shocking him, her hands rose higher, to reach the back of his head, before pulling his head down to her own, pressing her lips to his own. They were together again, and she would not let them be parted again.


	22. Radioactive

Song: [Radioactive](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iO_WxYC34eM&feature=youtu.be) by Imagine Dragons

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/31738653#workskin): [Somewhere Over the Rainbow](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V1bFr2SWP1I&feature=youtu.be)

[Enberlight](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13732128/chapters/31740219#workskin): [Radioactive](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iO_WxYC34eM&feature=youtu.be)

 

“Come and see…” a tired figure in a white thing that could almost be called a crown if you looked at it from the right angle greeted the witness. His white horse, a sickly abomination, shivered, seemingly in anticipation, but it might have been in pain from whatever diseases it was suffering.

“Come and see…” a woman with a red sword said, determination in her eyes as her red motorcycle’s engine revved of its own accord. The cycle, with a horse emblazoned upon its side like a brand, did not seem to have a fuel tank, and, by what the witness could tell, it probably didn’t even need fuel, anymore than the horse needed medical care.

“Come and see…” a tall, thin figure said from a black horse that looked like a skeleton, yet did not seem harmed by being in such a state. She was calm and relaxed, and, strangely enough, in her hand sat a shining pair of scales meant to weigh objects before balances and electronic scales were made.

“Come and see…” the final member of the group, someone with a skull emblazoned across the chest of her leather jacket said, the black face protector of the motorcycle helmet offering no view of her face. The motorcycle was a pale green, and, unlike the others, the figure had no particular defining feature, not a crown, not a sword, and not even a scale. And yet, they seemed to be in command.

“Why am I here?” the witness asked.

“It is time,” the last said, “You are to bear witness.”

“Witness to what?”

“Everything,” the woman with the sword said, running her fingers along the flat of her blade before sheathing it within the sheath on her motorcycle.

“That doesn’t answer anything,” the witness protested.

“It explains everything,” the woman on the black horse noted, the scales seeming to tilt of their own accord, “But you do not understand.”

“What’s there to understand?” the witness pressed, “Why do you ride if the world has ended already?”

The world around them was a barren wasteland, where there had once been thriving township. The invaders had worked quickly

“We didn’t approve of it,” the one with the crown said simply, and for the briefest moment, the witness recalled that the Bible had called him Conquest, though over the years he had apparently changed. Evolved, like the diseases that he’d created. “This will not stand.”

“It wasn’t even cleared Upstairs,” War stated, “At least, none of the angels think so. The Boss is sitting this out and won’t talk. And yet, here it is.”

“A faithless end,” Famine said, “No one authorized this, not Upstairs, Downstairs, or any of the others.”

“But why are you riding out?” she pressed.

“Because we didn’t approve,” Pestilence stated flatly. The flies that were buzzing around his horse suddenly seemed to rot and fall in response, “And it wasn’t supposed to end, yet. There were so many stories left to tell, so many ideas to spread.”

“Wars to fight,” War continued, “Famines, diseases…” she nodded to the one in the helmet, “Deaths…”

“Then why tell me all of this?” Sabrina pressed, “I’m nothing to any of you.”

“You’re not nothing,” Death, or as Sabrina had known her through their relationship, Holly responded, “You are important to me.”

“And you are here to bear witness,” Willow who was really Famine chimed in.

“Witness to what?”

“The return,” Pestilence, or John as she knew him said, and his crown seemed to almost glisten, “Kinda funny that it’s us that’s doing it, but we’re all humans have to handle this. We’ll set things to right.”

“You make it sound so orderly,” Victoria, or rather War, protested, “We’re going to make a mess and rebuild everything.”

Her words were illustrated by the armies of the dead flocking to Holly, who handed Sabrina a helmet and nodded to the sidecar of her motorcycle, which Sabrina knew wasn’t there earlier. Once she was seated, Death removed her on helmet briefly to smile at her before John spoke once more.

“Come and see.”


	23. Tell Me Lies

Song: [Tell Me Lies](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xVD28UpY3fA&feature=youtu.be) from Cats Don’t Dance

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/31922250#workskin): [With A Flair](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dv9yIAzhtd0&feature=youtu.be)

 

There was a bar in the middle nowhere, and in that bar, there was a piano that played itself. No one ever saw the control, but it was fairly obvious to all the regular patrons once they came in. But that was part of the appeal of the place, in essence. It was supposed to be magic, and so magic was the theme. The only person in the direction of the stage was the woman, a powerful, seemingly young woman who went around dressed in a silvery dress and stood with a silvery cane.

She was called Ms. Silver by them, and she was the only actual performer that the bar had on staff. Now, however, the patrons were fewer and the world, itself, was a darker place. After the unscheduled apocalypse, she still hadn’t received the call. None of the higher ups had told her anything.

And so, here she stayed.

No one had come in today, and the bar was cleaning itself, while the piano continued to play slowly.

“There’s no reason to keep it up,” she said, “Why bother playing?”

The piano wordlessly kept playing.

“Going to be like that, I see,” she noted dryly.

“He’s all broken up,” the bar said, pouring a shot of whiskey, then raised it high enough where someone’s mouth would have been, before it vanished, “Nothing’s going right down here.”

“You’re telling me?” she asked dryly, “The wolf didn’t even break loose of its ties. Piano’s not even part of an End.”

“Not all of us need things like that,” the bar replied before the ghost of a modern soldier entered with a legionnaire, a samurai and an Einherjar, “But we were vital. It’s all gone downhill.”

“It’s all gone downhill,” the legionnaire noted, “What can we do? The world’s ended.”

“We could try to fix it,” the voice from the piano said, speaking for the first time since the catastrophe occurred.

“What chance do we have?” Miss Silver asked, “Look at us. The cycle’s broken, the Apocalypse fell through. The End came and went, and we’re the leftovers. What survivors there are? They’re bound to die at some point, too. Song’s ended.”

“Write a new song,” the piano voice noted, switching the tune, “Show isn’t over, yet.”

“And how do you expect me to do anything? My sisters are nowhere to be found and, in case you haven’t noticed, there aren’t many souls of warriors lying around, these days.”

“We can still try,” the voice noted, “Better than waiting here to fade out.”

“So you say,” she replied, “But, like I said, we’ve got nothing to go with. Hold the phone…”

“You hear it, too?” the Einherjar noted, “What is it?”

“Cavalry’s coming in,” the piano said, slowing down the tempo, “Like I said, change the song.”

“What’s going on out there?” the samurai inquired as the sound of thunder could be heard.

“No idea, Han,” the soldier replied, “Any thoughts, Marcus?”

“Not a single one,” he replied, before an Ancient Greek soldier burst into the room.

“They’re coming!” he shouted, “They ride for the bar!”

“About damn time,” the piano remarked, “Well, should we go meet them?”

“Finally getting up from the piano?” the bar noted, “Must be important…”

“The most important thing,” the piano player agreed, “A new story.”

“Good to know, Anansi,” the bartender noted, finally fading into view as he twirled his indestructible, size-changing staff, “Glad someone has a plan.”

“Time to greet our guests, Sun Wukong,” the piano player said, grinning as he shimmered into view, first a man, then a spider, then a man again.

“I believe that it’s your job to welcome them, Brynhildr…” the Monkey King said to Miss Silver, who slammed her cane into the ground, revealing a spear.

“If they’re being led by who I think they are, I would say so,” she agreed cheerfully.

When she opened the door, none of the bar workers or the patrons were that surprised to see a woman in a reflective motorcycle helmet, followed by a woman in red with a sword, a woman in black with scales, and a pale man with a crown. A glance out the window revealed an army of various pantheons, all ready for battle for the sake of the world, itself. An army that clearly answered to the woman who had ridden in on the pale green motorcycle, who held the hand of a woman who, by all measures, looked completely ordinary.

“So, I take it you’re going to fix this,” Brynhildr noted, “And how do you plan on doing that?”

It was not Death that began their side of the conversation. Nor was it Pestilence, Famine, or War. It was the ordinary woman, and when she spoke, she only spoke three words.

“Come and see.”


	24. Always

Song: [Always](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eSMeUPFjQHc&feature=youtu.be) by Erasure

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/32288925#workskin): [I Need A Hero](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EasWdq7Njgo&feature=youtu.be)

 

It was a quiet day when they first met. It was, humorously enough, a bit of random chance that it happened at all. Sabrina had just left the grocery store when a slight wave of hunger hit her, before vanishing just as quickly as it had come to her. She was so distracted by that sensation that she didn’t notice the girl in the pale green leather jacket trailing behind a girl in black who was eyeing the junk food in her arms with interest evident on her face, a girl in red who was simply bristling with anticipation of some sort, as she wished to be in motion, and a boy in a white hoodie who was engrossed in a book and being dragged around by the aforementioned girl in red.

She did, however, notice her when she slammed into her, causing both of them to spill what they had in their hands.

“I’m so sorry,” Sabrina apologized.

“It was my fault,” the girl replied with a beautiful, apologetic smile as she helped Sabrina gather up her things before getting to work on her own, “I wasn’t paying attention. I’m normally quite good about these things.”

“No harm, no foul,” Sabrina replied “That’s a lovely accent, though. Where are you from?”

“Oh, here and there,” she replied with an enigmatic smirk, “We’ve been living here for a while, though my siblings and I spent a good amount of time traveling Europe and Asia a while back.”

“That sounds nice,” she noted, “Was it a scholarship thing, or just a spur of the moment thing?”

“It was for a bit of work,” she replied simply, “What’s your name?”

“Sabrina,” she replied, and saw her nod at that, but wrote it off as her thinking that it was the same name that she’d pictured for her. People always did say that she looked like a ‘Sabrina’ from time to time when she introduced herself.

“It is nice to meet you, Sabrina,” she said, offering another gentle smile, “Call me Holly.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Holly,” she smiled back, “Again, sorry I ran into you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she replied, “I have bumped into people a lot. You are one of the nicest ones I have bumped into, though.”

“Oi, sister!” a voice called out sharply, drawing the pair’s attention to the girl in red standing by a pale green van, “We’re headed home! Come and put the stuff in the trunk!”

“That would be my sister, Victoria,” Holly said sheepishly, “She is not exactly the patient type.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she replied, about to head to her car, “It was nice talking with you anyway.”

“Wait just a second,” Holly said as she shifted her bags to one arm and pulled a small black book out of her jacket pocket and opened it to the very end, ripping out the blank page there and writing on it with a pen that Sabrina would have sworn hadn’t been in her hand just moments prior. Once she finished writing, Holly shyly handed her the paper and said, “If you want to hang out later, you can call me at this number.”

“Sure thing,” she replied, “Always nice to have someone to hang out with.”

She called her the next day, and they met at Sabrina’s personal favorite coffee shop for a friendly chat. One chat let to another, which, in turn, led to an invitation to come and see a movie at her apartment, which led to a date, and soon, the pair were practically inseparable. When Holly wasn’t working or with her siblings, she could practically always be found with Sabrina.

This was why, when the world ended, Sabrina was not surprised that Holly raced to her apartment to check on her, though she was surprised to find her somehow more imposing as she told her that she was to be their Witness, to help bring about the restart of the world.

Naturally, she accepted. She wanted to stick with Holly always, and if Holly’s hand in hers as they approached the next group of potential recruits for Holly’s ever-growing army was anything to go by, Holly wished for the same. Whatever happened next, they’d see it through together.


	25. Tír na nÓg

Song: [_Tír na nÓg_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dhW1mh7U6-U&feature=youtu.be) by Celtic Woman

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/32318700#workskin): [The Last Rose of Summer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LqtSmj7zxmw&feature=youtu.be)

 

The path was different at night, but there was one thing that was consistent. There was singing throughout the air. Her voice. What else could it have been.

He had not been alone when he’d set out, but now he was. He had passed through the fog, passed through the circle of mushrooms. Now, here he was, in the real beyond the ring. Onward, her voice called him, echoing through the forest, guiding him onward. He had to return to her. He was hers.

He had been hers since she had found him. Since she had fed him.

He needed to find her. She had saved his life, and he felt he owed her. He would find her.

He belonged to her, though he knew she hadn’t meant to do so. At least, he felt certain that she hadn’t fully intended to do so.

He had once been a brave, traveling soldier, serving a king that had been as just as he was mighty. She saved his life, and he needed to find her. Needed to know the truth. Why him? Why had she saved him, of all people? He had been lost in the woods, separated from his fellow soldiers, until he was lost in the veil between the two.

And she had saved him. He hadn’t been worth anything, but she smiled and took him to a campfire and fed him. She nursed him back to health as she traveled with him to the boundary of their lands. Then, she kissed him and left him once he was in his king’s lands.

He belonged to her, now. He had to know. Did she do it on purpose?

Her voice rang through the land as he tried to find her. She was constantly calling to him, as if she were whispering in his ear at times. She called for him to keep going, leading him with her song as he continued to run onward.

He needed to know. He needed to know. He had to find her. He had to ask her about what had happened. He belonged to her. He just had to know if that had been her plan.

He wanted the truth. It was as simple as that. He needed to find her.

She sang to him, calling him over happily as he moved onward.

He belonged to her. When he arrived, finally seeing her face once more, she smiled.

“Come with me,” she said, offering her hand to him, “I missed you. I had not seen you in so long. Welcome back.”

He smiled at her, glad to see her once again, despite all the question racing through his mind.

“I’m sorry,” she said gently, “You were dying. I needed to save you, but all I had was our food. My kiss was meant to be a blessing, protection against my kind. But you were bound, as I was. And now, you were brought back. Perhaps I had not planned for this, but I am happy to see you. I will keep you safe with me. Your land has been taken by time, your name forgotten, but I will keep you close to my heart.”

How long has it been outside of your land? Why did you pick me? These questions were in his mind, but he could not bring himself to answer them. Instead, he said the words that were most important to him, the words that he knew were his own, not words forced from his tongue. One look at her face, the sound of her voice, the sense of being home, but, perhaps more importantly to him, the return to the one he had befriended. He took her hand in his own and kissed her palm.

“I missed you,” he said, “I missed your companionship.”

“Then let us never be parted again,” she replied, “Come with me. We can talk on the way to Tír na nÓg. Let us go home, my love.”

And so, hand in hand, the wandering soldier and the elven maid began to trek towards their home, never to be parted again.


	26. Defying Gravity

Song: [Defying Gravity](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yf9Bt5WFZKs&feature=youtu.be) from Wicked

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/32485266#workskin): [Your Fault](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_-EmdEEqs2w&feature=youtu.be)

 

“As far as terrible plans go,” the Knight noted, “That was the worst you could have made.”

“Are you here just to say that?” the Mage asked, standing as dignifiedly as one could when chained to a desk.

“You can still apologize,” the Knight replied, “He would accept it.”

“I’m not apologizing,” the Mage stated flatly, “I hate everything he stands for. He’s evil, vile, petty.”

“And the one who has kept us alive all this time,” the Knight replied.

“For a given measure of alive,” the Mage retorted, causing the Knight to flinch, “Sorry. That was a low blow.”

“It doesn’t matter if we hate him or not,” the Knight said slowly, “If you apologize, insincerely or not, he’s bound to forgive you. You’re his favorite. You’re the one he made his apprentice.”

“And I refuse to submit to him. He’s a monster. I’m tired of doing his will,” she glared, her magic causing her eyes to glow faintly, while the chains kept her magic as much at bay as they could.

“Well, I hope you’re happy with this choice,” the Knight stated flatly, “He will kill you. Please, just apologize. Everything can go back to normal if you just apologize. Please. You’re all I have left to live for.”

“I can’t just stand by, anymore,” she responded, “He rules with an iron fist, and he must be stopped.”

“He’s too powerful,” the Knight answered in a broken voice, removing their helmet to reveal the empty space where their head should have been, “Look at me. I fought him in an attempt to save you, and the only reason I’m still around, the only reason he kept you alive, is because you were just powerful enough to keep me alive like this. Neither of us is strong enough.”

“We wouldn’t have to be alone,” the Mage replied, the chain rattling as she ran her hand along the helmet, “Together, you and I could be unstoppable. We could keep him from doing things like this ever again.”

“We’re too weak,” were the words out of the helmet once it was reattached to the armor-clad body, “We can’t take him on like that. Please. Just apologize. Work subtly so we can change things for the better.”

“I’d rather die,” she stated plainly.

“Then I have no choice…” the Knight said slowly, taking the Mage’s hand in their own gloved one. When they slowly withdrew their hand, the Mage felt a weight in her own hand. Looking down, she saw the key to the manacles on her wrists.

Quickly uncuffing herself, she said, “Come with me.”

“I don’t think I can,” the Knight replied sadly, “Look at us. You’re alive. I’m barely alive as it stands. What use am I to you?”

“You’re you,” the Mage said, grasping the gloved hand in her own, “I need you. Without you, I couldn’t go on. You’re why I’m willing to do this, why I’m willing to keep waking up day after day.”

“You could find more people,” the Knight replied, “I’m worthless.”

“Not to me,” she replied softly, pulling a latch for a secret passage that even the tyrant had no idea existed as she took her staff in her hand, “Come with me. Please…”

The Knight stood stock still, not giving any sign of moving.

“If… If that’s how you want it to be,” the Mage choked out sorrowfully, “Take care of yourself…”

She entered the chamber, the hidden door shutting behind her, cutting her off from her Knight. It was when she had rounded the corner that she heard the sound of metal footsteps behind her. Pausing, barely daring to hope, she watched the corner, her staff illuminating the tunnel faintly, allowing her to see the Knight, the helmet in their hands as they approached.

“Where shall we go?” the Knight asked, placing her helmet upon her head.

“West,” the Mage said, “We will need to prepare many things for what is to come.”


	27. Bring Me To Life (Wake Me Up Inside)

Song: [Bring Me To Life (Wake Me Up Inside)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wXcdYBh3hgg&feature=youtu.be) by Evanescence

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/32880663#workskin): [Your Reality but it's in a minor key](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pGZCb75bOQQ&feature=youtu.be)

 

War had been sharpening her sword when the world had come to an end. It had been bothering them all for some time. A tension in the air that they couldn’t explain. Something had been coming, and not even Pestilence could ignore that the way he ignored the Call so often.

All of them were tense as they waited for the Big Order from on high. Famine was polishing her scales, Pestilence was fiddling with his crown with a nervous air, as if he wanted to be rid of it, but knew that he wouldn’t be able to. That it was needed.

Death, for her part, was pacing the floor with a troubled air. They all knew what was on her mind.

And then, the world ended. Without them. A few pointed questions revealed that none of the ends had planned for this. That it wasn’t theirs was the thing that Death focused upon as she raced off to an apartment she knew well by this point. Her siblings rode beside her. The roads were empty, and they could ride freely. Two horses, two motorcycles.

“I still don’t know why you stuck with those old forms,” War noted to Famine and Pestilence as their horses matched pace with the impossible speeds of the enchanted motorcycles.

“Because not all of us have lost our dedication to the old practices,” Famine replied simply from atop the pile of skin and bones that was, technically speaking, a horse.

“Because it looks better,” was Pestilence’s response as the rotten-looking horse dragged itself forward.

“More importantly,” Famine pressed “What are we going to do?”

“Regarding what?” Pestilence asked as Death led them onward.

“Well, after we pick up Sabrina, what are we supposed to do?” she pressed, “This wasn’t on anyone’s schedules.”

“We fight,” War stated plainly.

“That does not narrow things down to a precise idea,” Famine noted.

“We don’t have much to go with, at this moment,” Pestilence agreed, “Everything is very far off-script.”

“And what would you have us do?” War pressed.

“We will handle this,” a brief flash of Conquest was recognizable before he was once more Pestilence, saying, “At least, if our leader’s willing to do so. And if we can find a witness.”

Death, or as she was thinking of herself as she rode, Holly, did not speak as they continued to Sabrina’s apartment. She needed her to be safe. She knew that she hadn’t moved her, but there were all manners of things that could have happened now that the world was wrong. Sabrina needed to be safe. Without her, it would almost seem meaningless, even if they did ride into battle as the others seemed to believe they were eventually going to.

As they continued along the way, her presence caused the dead to rise. The songs of the few Valkyrie began to echo as they followed where she led, along with many other spirits and the like. They were not the same, but Holly was Death, and the Four were everywhere there was life. It was easier to simply follow their lead.

When Sabrina exited her apartment to meet them, she was surprised to see what could only be thought of as the armies of Heaven and Hell riding behind the four siblings, all riding different vehicles.

“What the Hell’s going on, Holly?” she asked, turning to the still helmeted figure in the pale green leather jacket.

“I had to check on you,” she replied, raising her helmet’s visor, but not removing the helmet, itself.

“And all of this?” she asked.

“We’re the Four Horsemen,” Holly replied gently, before slowly explaining the situation as it stood.

“What do you think, Pestilence?” Victoria murmured to John on the side, “Could she fit the role?”

“I think so, War,” he replied, “Famine, your thoughts?”

“If we are doing this,” Willow remarked, “I think that she would be the perfect fit.”

“The perfect fit for what?” Sabrina asked as Holly mounted her motorcycle.

“Come and see,” Pestilence replied.


	28. Discord Remix -Eurobeat Brony

Song: [Discord Remix -Eurobeat Brony](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xPfMb50dsOk&feature=youtu.be) by The Living Tombstone

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/33082380#workskin): [Turning Over A New Leaf](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VtotCj7ovkU&feature=youtu.be)

 

Holly pulled the motorcycle to a stop once again.

“Arise,” she said, causing the bodies of the fallen to rise and join her army, tanks returning to live, crashed fighter planes returning to the sky as if they weren’t destroyed. And onwards they once more continued.

Valkyrie mounted upon winged horses or helicopters that flew with no controls flew alongside them, occupied by their own troops. Drums could be heard elsewhere. Various spirits and gods rode behind the four before the first of enemy troops materialized before them.

“You know,” John said, sucking on a lollipop as they stopped in front of the enemy, their inhuman faces as visible as their multiple appendages waved lasers and the like, “I always did like Wells’s work. He was a good writer. Didn’t focus too hard on the science, but he was a great storyteller.”

“Are you getting to a point?” Victoria asked, her hand on her sword already.

“He wrote War of the Worlds,” he continued, popping the candy out of his mouth, “I feel like it’s pretty apt here.”

With that, he flicked the lollipop at one of the invaders, the saliva-riddled sweet bouncing off its face. When it glared and silently raised the laser to shoot him, it suddenly began to rot from the spot it had touched throughout the body as pustules began to form and leak, a state that began to spread to its comrades.

“This is our world,” he said flatly once all twenty of the invaders fell, screeching in agony before rats came in and began to gnaw on them and flies began to approach.

“We’re not taking this nonsense anymore,” Victoria agreed, delighted by her brother’s willingness to actually do something for a change.

“The word from Upstairs is still the same,” Willow noted, “The Boss remains silent on what we should do. I feel that he is deliberately not speaking up.”

“He is the type to have us figure this out for ourselves,” Holly noted before they once again rode off.

Around the city as they continued to reclaim the world from the invaders, piece by piece, there were battles being fought. Einherjar marching alongside their counterparts from various places and times, guns, swords, and the like tearing through the invaders as they moved through them, over a thousand years of battle readying them for this sort of conflict, if not this one exactly. A woman with the hair the color of a rainbow was racing across the entire city, tearing through the enemies in the blink of an eye. At night, the enemy’s howls of terror and agony could be heard as vampires and werewolves glutted themselves on these newcomers with a violent fervor.

They pressed onward, seeing another encampment of enemies.

“This is going to be fun,” Victoria laughed maniacally before charging ahead on her own motorcycle, her sword singing as she hacked through the invaders with ease, before snatching one of their laser rifles, leaping off her motorcycle, which raced forward with glee as it deliberately attacked the others. Were she not herself, she would have been unable to use the rifle, as it was not something that a human hand could easily master. But she was War, and all weapons were hers to command. Leaping into the center of the group, she began shooting around herself with what the unobservant would have considered reckless abandon, every single shot hitting an enemy until she leapt back up with a whistle and landed upon her mount. And onward, they rode.

When they reached the next base, Willow rode silently before brandishing her scales as she said, “A measure of wheat for a penny, and three measures of barley for a penny; and see thou hurt not the oil and the wine.” The enemies grasped at what, on their vaguely humanoid bodies, could only be their equivalents of stomachs before they began to tear into each other with beak-like maws and multiple clawed hands with seven fingers apiece, intent on devouring one another. When her work was complete and she was surrounded by nothing but torn, green viscera, they began to ride once more.

“Would you like to come and see my part in this, Sabrina?” Holly asked her passenger.

“I… suppose,” she replied after a moment of thought, “But why are you doing it like this?”

“We need to begin this properly,” she replied gently, “If we are to begin this endeavor properly, we need to do it right. Then, the others will have more freedom to fight. The armies of Heaven and Hell will also be able to join in at that point. For the moment, we’re limited.”

With that, she and Sabrina slowly rode into the next encampment. The aliens pointed their lasers, but the lights went out as they got closer and closer, the power for their weapons dying.

“You’re not allowed to remain here,” Holly said. “Begone.”

With a snap of her fingers, they all fell.

“And now, we can begin in earnest,” she said, and onward they rode. And the armies of Heaven and Hell followed with them.


	29. Future Girls

Song: [Future Girls](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v3xGiMJcGrk) by Smile.dk

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/33267582#workskin): [Bmblb](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GJhiD4jvjo4&feature=youtu.be)

 

It is a general fact that many accept that, when there is a magical threat, there are always champions to defend it. Even Centuries after mankind had begun to travel across the galaxy in The Space Station, changing the world to fit their needs, there was still a need for these champions. All that could be done was recreate the magic once again.

And things became more interesting, as these things often do, with a single girl being chosen for a great destiny.

Beta-02 was the name she was designated with, though she referred to herself as Bea. She was not actually a girl in the same sense that most were. She was, after all, a mechanical being, designed to pilot starships so the companies could cut costs. A prototype that had not been completed, no one would have suspected her to be the one chosen first.

But chosen she was.

“Awaken, Bea,” a distant, yet near voice said, rousing her from her recharging in storage, “It is time to protect the world.”

“Error. I am a pilot,” she replied, “I was only designed to pilot starships for transporting things and people...”

“You are called to a greater destiny,” an unidentified catlike creature said, “You are called to fight for all that is good.”

“But I cannot,” she protested, “I am not even a living being.”

“Times have changed,” the catlike creature replied, “You have been chosen. Thus, you must be alive, regardless of your origins. And you will not be alone.”

“I will fight beside you,” another voice said, revealing a girl with obvious cybernetic implants clad in a black dress and black mask, a strange staff in her hands as she approached.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“You may call me Lady Dark, Princess Starlight,” she replied, “We are the guardians of all that is good in the universe.”

“Why do you call me that?” she asked, “I’m no princess. I’m a pilot, not a princess, and my name is Bea.”

“That is your title, much as Lady dark is mine,” she replied, holding out a box containing a ring that seemed to be of a reflective material that she could not place, “And this is your transformation item.”

“We will defend all,” another girl said, revealing a dark-haired girl with a pair of grey gloves and a grey cloak. If she recognized the face, and she was incapable of not doing so, she was one of the many clones that worked to maintain the Space Station. “Lady Iron, Your Highness. When not fighting alongside you, I am known as Catherine 12796.”

“Lady Comet,” chimed in another girl, her face blurred by some strange aura while she seemed to bounce in place, her red armor almost gleaming in the light of the large storage room, “Mankind’s ancient enemy has returned. We need to be prepared, and for that, we need you.”

“They speak the truth,” the catlike creature noted, “I have awakened from my ancient slumber in the minds of mankind to bring you all together. For now, I’m afraid that I cannot explain much, as a crisis has already begun, though the crew have not realized that is the case, yet. Once you have begun your transformation, Bea, the magic will hide your identities, though not in the same way that Lady Comet hides hers at the moment. None will be able to tell that you are yourselves, protecting yourselves and any loved ones you have with your anonymity. Take the ring and take your place as the leader of this group.”

Hesitantly, Bea took the ring in her hand, admiring it in the light before she placed it upon her hand. Then, as if they were always in her mind and only needed this time to be recalled, she said the words that would change her life even more than that conversation had. “Starlight Magic Blessing!”

And in a flash of bright light, Bea had transformed into Princess Starlight. Looking at the others, she felt as if they had always been friends before she nodded to herself, “Come on. We’ve got monsters to fight.”


	30. The Howling

Song: [The Howling](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U8hJsKn0wzo&feature=youtu.be) by Within Temptation

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/33461475#workskin): [A Whole New World](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hZ1Rb9hC4JY&feature=youtu.be)

 

The Young Miss continued down her path, the gauntlet still upon her hand, granting her continued life beyond what she should have lived with the damage she’d taken. It was night, and the full moon shown down upon her from the hill upon which she stood, the hill that overlooked the village she was heading to. She had heard that there was a werewolf in the village, and many people had begun to vanish as of late, so she felt a need to investigate. She, after all, was immune to lycanthropy, vampirism, or other such curses, as a result of her enchanted nature, brought upon her by the gauntlet.

A howl echoed through the village as she approached, and she heard the sound of rapid footsteps as if someone were running as quickly as their legs could carry them. She listened closer. There were more than the footsteps of one person running.

She quickened her pace, her cloak billowing around her as she pulled up her black hood, her sword gleaming silver in the moonlight.

As she had neared the source of the footsteps, she saw a trail of blood. She ran the gauntlet along the blade and felt magic dance within its power, a curse of some sort. No doubt, the lycanthrope was the source. She trailed behind the trail with a calm, but quick pace. She needed to know what was happening, and if she needed to slay anything.

Following the blood trail, she heard the footsteps grow louder and louder, until she arrived at the site, hidden by bushes as she crouched in the forested area that the blood trail had led to, where there was a broken howl to be heard. And that was when she saw it.

A werewolf was there, but it was small, for a werewolf, not even as tall as the typical knight. It was not a man-eater, then, as only man-eating werewolves were larger than the average person. No doubt this wolf preyed upon the local deer population. That would have raised questions regarding the missing if not for what it was surrounded by.

Vampires. An entire swarm. Her grip tightened on her silver sword, the one she had taken from that Baron she had fought some time back. Silver burned them as much as it did a lycanthrope of any variety. She grinned as she stepped out of the bushes deliberately stepping upon a twig to get their attention.

“Fresh blood, too,” one well-dressed vampire, no doubt the leader, declared, “Well, well. Aren’t we in for a treat? A bit of sport and a meal.”

She spoke not a word as she raised her blade.

The vampires winced, but otherwise did not react to it, drawing weapons of their own, instead. On vampire, a woman in an elegant dress, drew a crossbow and shot her in the eye, the bolt burying itself deeply into her skull. And she fell, blood pooling at her feet. The vampires seemed to forget their ‘game’ at that, the sight of sustenance.

At that moment, the bolt fell out of her head and she rose with a bloody grin from the blood that had dribbled down her face before she was once again whole and without blood anywhere. She was surrounded, but that made her even happier.

She moved artfully as she tore through the vampires, their twisted souls feeding the gauntlet as she cut them down one by one with a determined expression, barely bothering to dodge at times because she could simply be repaired by the countless billions of souls trapped within her gauntlet. This was what she had been destined for. Fighting to protect those who could not protect themselves, slaying the wicked so that the world would be better at peace. Battling armies of the damned and corrupt was the only thrill in life that she found worthwhile. One by one, she cut them down, deliberately leaving the leader for last.

Once he was all that remained of his swarm, she let him run for a bit before throwing a blessed silver dagger into the back of his right knee, causing him to fall, shrieking in agony as he tried to crawl away from her. She, for her part, walked towards her victim slowly as he howled in pain, throwing another in the back of his left shoulder, then his right, followed by his left knee. When she finally got to him, he was screeching inhumanly while she pressed the flat of her blade to his cheek, holding it for some time before she lifted it and removed his head from his body, causing his body, and the maimed bodies of his swarm to vanish in smoke and flames.

Her battle done, she made her way to the injured werewolf, which was bleeding from several wounds, but none of them seemed fatal. Reaching into her cloak, she withdrew bandages and bound the unconscious creature’s wounds before leaving a few of her strips of deer jerky for them to eat and waited with them. The swarm that had attacked the werewolf had been slain with their master, and any stragglers would have been destroyed with his death. She would wait with the wolf until the dawn, when it would be safe. This was another part of being the heroine. One needed to aid those who were in need of it. She would leave afterwards and continue on her way. There was still much evil in the world to fight.


	31. The Friendly Arms Inn

Song: [The Friendly Arms Inn](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ZXiZZpe48c) from the Baldur’s Gate OST

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/33658227#workskin): [You're Welcome](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=79DijItQXMM&feature=youtu.be)

 

It was peaceful. The Inn was always that way. No one who set foot inside The Inn was allowed to fight. It was a place where any could come to rest, regardless of who they were. As long as they were within the walls of The Inn, they were free to move about, as long as they did no harm and committed no crimes within its walls.

The Inn was manned by The Host. No one actually knew his name, nor did they know the name of The Lady, who was always within the walls of The Inn. No one knew a lot of things regarding them or The Inn. They simply were. The Host was quiet and left no impression on any who dealt with him. Were one to try to draw a portrait of The Host, all they would have would be a portrait of empty, but elegant clothes. Drawing The Lady would have been similarly futile, as no one could agree on what she looked like. All that everyone who saw her could agree upon was that The Lady was beautiful, and no portrait could catch her likeness properly.

The Inn was their place. They were the Inn’s keepers. That was all that could be said for certain. The Lady kept to herself, and The Host did his duties meticulously. There was no other staff. The kitchen prepared the food, the trays served themselves to the guests, and the rooms tended to themselves when the guests were out. The Host refused to have a messy Inn, and The Lady would have refused to have let anyone make a mess of it.

No one was sure of who they were to one another, either. They were always polite to one another, and neither would hear a negative word about the other, but they did not have any noticeable intimacy. Indeed, they were rarely even in the same place unless she needed something from him or if he was personally presenting her the newspaper as she sat in her chair as she did every morning.

The Inn, itself, was a beautiful building. Lovingly crafted brick by brick, with chandeliers and torches that burned endlessly without any damage, and all manners of beautiful things, from statues to toys, from portraits to suits of armor, it was a wonder to behold. Many even wondered if that was why fighting within The Inn was banned, but, if pressed for the reason why violence was banned, The Host and the Lady had different answers, neither of which were that.

“It has no place within these walls,” The Lady would say, “Therefore, it is not allowed.”

“We make the violence stop,” was all The Host would say, before immediately offering the questioner something they didn’t even remember requesting, but knew they absolutely needed.

The Inn was safe. The Inn was beautiful. The Inn was magical. All of these things were known, but no one could say why these things were. All anyone knew was that The Inn was manned by The Host, likely owned by The Lady, and that violence was not allowed within its walls.

But, it must be said, there is always a troublemaker waiting to cause problems for those around them.

There were two men. One had once been a knight for a tyrant but had retired in disgust when he refused to kill one in every ten citizens in a village that had been late in making their payment because the cart they used for such things had been damaged and needed repairs. The other was still the tyrant’s servant and had followed the man who had left the tyrant’s services. While the other man had slept, he crept out of his room and picked the lock, his knife raised as he crept into the room.

To his shock, however, rather than his victim, asleep in his bed, as starlight filtered in through the small window the would-be assassin found himself face-to-face with The Host sitting at a desk in a room with no light save the torch on the wall behind The Host, whose eyes, whatever color they normally were, were shining with an unnatural light.

“You attempted to break the rules,” he said plainly, yet this plain statement of fact caused the assassin to feel a weight upon his soul, “You would have killed that man, who is a fellow guest under our care. You attempted to harm a fellow guest of The Inn.”

It was at this moment that the tyrant’s servant heard a cooler voice behind him, “You broke the rules.”

Turning, he saw The Lady staring coldly at him with eyes that he would have sworn were red, but others would have claimed to have been different colors entirely. Something about her, however, was wrong. She seemed… off somehow, and he wasn’t sure how.

“We are The Host and The Lady of The Inn,” the Host said, “None shall come to harm within the walls of The Inn. Not even you shall be harmed.”

“Then why bring me here?” he demanded.

“Your body shall be fine,” The Lady answered, “It shall feel no pain.”

He felt his body slowly stiffening at those words, “We are spirits, not of the dead, but of The Inn. And we find you wanting.”

His arms were turning into a hollow steel as he felt his eyes begin to vanish, until all that was left was a suit of armor that had no body within it as it clawed at its own empty face. And yet, he was not viewing it from within his body. He was witnessing this from the outside.

The Innkeeper extended his hand and snapped his fingers, causing the suit of armor to exit the office as a white flame stayed behind, floating to the Innkeeper’s hand.

“You shall feel no harm,” the Innkeeper said to the light, “But you shall be put to work. You shall power the chandelier in the main hall for the next century or so.”

The Inn was a place of peace, and The Host and The Lady kept it so.


	32. The Prayer

Song:  _[The Prayer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OLktLaEnusM) _from Quest for Camelot (by Celine Dion and Andrea Bocelli)

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/33853196#workskin): [You'll Be In My Heart](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iShZ8bLrDc4&feature=youtu.be)

 

The bird flew to Lady Angela’s hand as she watched her daughter ride off to follow the strange, silent girl with the black gauntlet. Had she been years younger, she would have gone with them, but age and the injuries of old battles prevented her.

“Be my eyes, old friend,” she said to the raven, “Watch over her in the world, guide her where I cannot.”

She knew that her daughter was meant for great things, and had trained her for such things, but, now that it had come to pass, she wasn’t sure how she was supposed to handle that. She had wanted for her daughter to become whatever she wanted, but now that she was gone, she just wanted her to be safe.

The raven flew off, ready to watch over her daughter as she made her way to fight alongside the young heroine. Long ago, the ageless bird had served as her own guide, when she had set out on her own adventures, but her daughter would need him more than she would, now.

“Let the light guide you onward, my dear child,” she said softly. She wished that life would be kind along her daughter’s voyage, that the gods above would protect her. She had done her best to ready her for the world, and she hoped that it would pay off.

She remembered her daughter’s first steps, her first words, her first weapon, her first book. And now, she had to hope that her daughter’s skills and those of the girl with the gauntlet were enough in the world.

The guide was her gift to her daughter, as was the ring upon the girl’s finger, a symbol of divine protection, and an armor made of an indestructible, blessed material that was light enough to not cause her any mobility or speed issues. Her own blessed swords were the final gift that she presented to her when she had told her that she was going to aid the girl with the gauntlet on her quest. Her daughter was ready, but it would always be useful to have a guide to light the way in the dark. The bird would help her. Of that, she was certain. It was a good familiar, and it would protect her and teach her as she continued down this path she had decided upon.

Marianna had quickly caught up to the silent girl with the gauntlet, who eyed her with an unconcerned air, as if she had expected her and was otherwise unconcerned with her presence.

“I wish to help you,” she said when the silent girl had not shown any desire to request anything of her.

The girl looked at her as if she were not completely sure what to make of her.

“I grew up with tales of my mother,” she explained, “The greatest heroine that ever lived. I want to live up to her example. She fought for the good of all and faced against the most dangerous of evils with a reassuring smile. My dream is to be like her. My mother helped all who tried to live good lives, and I wish to carry on in her name.”

She remembered the tales, but she also remembered the loving embraces, and the assurances that she would be able to follow her dreams if she tried hard enough. She remembered gentle smiles and games of make-believe. Above all, she remembered the woman who taught her that, while fear was powerful, the brave fought despite it, not due its absence. All of this, she remembered, and all of this made her certain that she needed to help this heroine before her.

Her mother’s raven flew to her shoulder and landed upon it as the girl gave her an appraising look before nodding, seemingly to herself, before she gestured to a stump across from the one she was sitting upon. She was, it seemed, welcomed into the fold.

Her mother was her guiding light in how she would act. She would be the bright heroine of justice, guided by the grace of her mother’s sense of justice and the blessing of her raven.

She hoped she could prove equal to her mother’s honorable name.


	33. Time What Is Time

Song:  _[Time What Is Time](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h0fV5KF80_Q&feature=youtu.be) _by Blind Guardian

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/34020465#workskin): [Piano Man](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gxEPV4kolz0&feature=youtu.be)

 

It was a bit of an adjustment period for Marianna when she joined with the girl with the gauntlet, of whom she still did not know the name. She wasn’t entirely sure of what the girl wanted other than to fight evil, and that was only noticeable by her actions. The girl, addressed by one elderly hunchback who worked at an inn that they frequently as ‘Young Miss,’ was theoretically noble, she clearly had a firm sense of wrong and right, and she was dangerous in a fight, as the raiders of the village they had visited the previous day could attest. And then, there was the matter of that gauntlet of hers. Something about it was wrong, though she couldn’t quite say what it was.

But, they had found a sense of quiet companionship after a while, and Marianna considered them friends, as a result. At the very least, the girl did not have nearly as tense a posture around her as she did with the rest of the world. Still, it was possible that she was simply inured to her presence at this point.

As they traveled one night, the Young Miss stopped in her soundless walk, holding out a hand to stop Marianna as well. Marianna stared before drawing her blessed swords, ready to battle whatever it was that they were going to face. There, in the clearing, was a cult, one composed of the worshipers of the Bound One. They had a girl tied to a stake, clearly intent on burning her.

The Young Miss stared at the chanting figures with a flat expression before nodding to Marianna.

And so, they charged into battle. Marianna couldn’t help but admire her companion’s brutal efficiency, dancing between opponents with a deadly precision that once again led to her wondering where she had been trained.

But, there was time for such thoughts, and that time, to Marianna’s eyes, was to occur later.

She became a blur of a silvery white, becoming one with blade and air as she fought in the name of the true God of Light and Magic, tearing through the cultists with a glare at these fiends that would treat people in such a way. They could not predict her as she vanished from sight, only to appear in another flash of silver blades, one that tore through the worshipers of the Traitor.

Her companion, in contrast, was much more willing to simply not dodge strikes, healing injuries with an eldritch light as she ripped through them with a blade that armor seemed to yield to easily. Her gauntlet occasionally let off a faint glow, itself, whenever anyone fell on the battlefield. She continued down her path, tearing through them with a dark gleam in her eyes as she did so. The High Priest attempted to continue his ceremony as the Young Miss made her way to him, followed by Marianna. Just as he raised his torch, ready to cast it onto the pyre upon which the mysterious girl was trapped, the Young Miss raised her blade and tossed it more quickly, pinning his arm to the tree beside him as it buried itself fully through his arm and half-way through the tree.

Marianna vanished in a flicker of motion and light before ending his pain. Once his head was separated from his body, she flickered to the girl bound to the pyre, a rather ordinary-looking girl, dark of hair and dark of eye, dressed in a plain grey dress, who gave them an amused look as she did so.

“You have my thanks, brave heroines,” the girl said, “May I have your names and your quest?”

The Young Miss gave Marianna a flat stare that said enough for Marianna to decide exactly what she was going to say.

“You may know me as the Lady Knight,” Marianna said, “And this is my companion, the Young Miss, and we intend to put an end to the great evils plaguing this land. Are you one of the Good Folk?”

“Yes and no,” she replied, snapping her fingers causing the wood for the pyre to vanish. “I have the powers of one, but I am not one of them. In the name of the Veiled One, I am in both of your debt, much as it pains me to admit. Whatever you do, I shall be with you to see it to the end. You may call me the Clever Girl.”


	34. The Air Force Song

Song:  _[The Air Force Song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sHOq6Sl9u38&feature=youtu.be) _written by Robert MacArthur Crawford

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/34170833#workskin): [The U.S. Navy Song (Anchor's Aweigh)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T-3ws7b4sZg&feature=youtu.be)

 

The rider on the red motorcycle was now free of her restrictions, now that the End was begun. She could do as she pleased, so she readied the armies of the world. The dead, the living, all fell to her command. And that included the soldiers of the sky. Planes soared through the sky mightily, helicopters hummed to life, like armored beetles, riding alongside winged horses and planes long taken out of commission. The wrecks of long ago flew home, some with holes in their hulls, some destroyed to the point that it was a miracle that they were flying. Their contemporary heroes gave salutes to these ghosts, returned to end this new threat.

Winged horses rode amongst them, the sky turning into an amazing display of aerial force the likes of which the world had never seen before or since. Biplanes, fighter jets, stealth planes, all manners of soldiers at the ready.

Victoria grinned as they readied themselves for battle. The enemy didn’t stand a chance.

And yet, the invaders tried nonetheless.

“Prepare for War,” she grinned as her motorcycle turned into a fighter jet. She had a fondness for the fact that Upstairs gave her the right to give them their own wings. They did such amazing things. Looking at the Force following her into the wild blue yonder, she grinned. Their fighting spirit was admirable. They were willing to strap themselves into anything she gave them to soar through the air and fight for their home.

She felt that she was finally beginning to understand why John and Holly were so fond of them. They were inspirational, in their way.

As they followed her, the enemy sent their own ships, firing upon them and darting to tear them from the air.

But not even shooting down their planes would stop them. She was half-convinced that they’d find a way to fly without them. They loved the sky, and these creatures were invading the sky that was their home.

Still, even if that were true, she was perfectly willing to make them fly through sheer force of will, as the long-dead troops flying the flaming ghosts of their ships could attest.

Then, the Valkyrie opened the rainbow bridge, allowing even more planes to enter the field as the first line. If Victoria could tell correctly, gods and goddesses of various pantheons were flying their own ships, as well, proudly joining these men and women in defending against these fiends.

She smiled as various pilots managed to tear through the defenses of the enemy fighters with ease, tearing apart their base as they did so.

They were zooming through the air, ready to battle with all they had.

As this Air Force continued to defend their world, her grin widened, feral and excited as they batted aside the enemy’s defenses.

They were an absolute delight. Their planes were level, their weapons shot true. Every last one of them fought with everything they had to protect all that they loved.

This was a true war. This was what she loved about working with them. Nothing would stop them once they had something to protect. The sky was theirs, and they would not stop. This was their element, as much as war was hers. The Air Force, the Valkyrie, and all those who fought alongside them were impossible to stop, even if she hadn’t been there. Her plane removed its cockpit, and she climbed atop it, her sword held aloft as it led them to the large ship that hovered above the enemy’s base.

“Reclaim the sky!” she laughed as her plane steered itself, “This is your place! Ride to war! These invaders cannot stop you!”

With that, she sliced through one of the enemy ships with her sword as the guns of the planes and helicopters roared to life, sending the enemy’s larger ship crashing to the ground.

“Rejoice, for you have won this day!” she called out, “Into the heavens, we soar! More shall follow, flocking behind you! Let nothing stop you! Fight for your world!”

Now she was absolutely sure that she could understand why John and Holly were fond of them. They were able to produce such amazing, undauntable people as this. They were brilliant.


	35. The Gambler

Song: [The Gambler](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7hx4gdlfamo&feature=youtu.be) by Kenny Rogers

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/34354247#workskin): [Ballroom Blitz](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cN9jTnxv0RU&feature=youtu.be)

 

“Heh, you’re not exactly in a good place right now, are you?” the old man in the fancy vest told the girl, “Want some advice?”

“What would it cost me?” she asked, not sure how he knew that her attempts in the previous town had failed.

“Carrying any whiskey?” he asked, “That’s all I’d ask for it.”

She reached into her bag and handed him the small bottle, which held what looked like at most a swallow of whiskey remaining. He gulped it down easily, then pulled out a pipe, which he loaded with tobacco.

“You mind?” he asked, holding out the pipe towards.

“Alright,” she shrugged, sparking a fire within the bowl with a snap of her fingers.

He took a deep pull from the pipe, before blowing it out the window of the compartment they were sitting in. Once that was done, everything fell silent while his face could have been carved from stone for all the emotion it displayed.

“You seem the type to go headfirst into things,” he said, taking out an aged pack of cards as smoke billowed from the pipe, “No thought about consequences or dangers involved in any of it. You’ve got to analyze the situation before you do anything, but you’ve got to do it fast. You probably throw out your most powerful spells, first. Any gambler could tell you that you need to keep an eye on what you’ve got and what you throw away. You don’t do that.”

“How can you tell?” she asked.

“Kid, I’ve made a living around my skills at reading people’s faces,” he chuckled, taking another puff from the pipe, “You’ve got the look. Probably passed out of the Combat Mage Academy pretty early on with an encyclopedia of spells in your head, if I’m reading you right.”

“Am I really that easy to read?” she asked incredulously.

“Everyone is, when you reach my age,” he coughed, plucking the pipe out of his mouth as he did so, “Don’t focus too hard on what you’ve got when you start. You need to focus on getting to the right point before you let loose.”

“Who are you?” she inquired, trying to figure out what sort of life this gambler had to have had.

“Most people called me the Jack of Spades,” he replied.

“I see…” she mused, trying to recall why she recognized it outside of playing cards.

“At any rate, you’ve got to be smart when you do these things,” he said, “If you’re planning on surviving, you’ve got to know that every hand’s a winner, and every hand’s a loser. Things can twist in surprising ways, and if you don’t when to fold them, you aren’t going to last long. Know your limits. Always know when to walk away, and when you need to run. That information is life or death in gambling and in adventuring.”

She gasped as she realized where she had heard that name referenced before. This was one of the Great Heroes of old. He fought alongside the King of Swords, the Queen of Fire, and the Knight of the Northern Star, heroes that had long since passed on. Heroes that she had wanted to emulate ever since she was a child.

“Of course,” he sighed, “The best you can hope for in either line of work is to die in your sleep. Still, knowing when to hold them and when to fold them is the way you get to enjoy the best you can hope for when you’re old, and not when you’re young.”

“Why are you telling me this?” she asked.

“Time’s coming for new heroes,” he replied, shuffling his cards, “And I’m not young anymore. I figure that I’d let a new mage learn the most important tricks of the trade.” He handed her the cards. “Take these. You’ll need them more than I will. Go, fight evil, but always know when you’re outmatched or when you’re at the advantage.”

He chucked the contents of the pipe out the moonlit window of their compartment, “Goodnight.”

He faded off to sleep at that, and she did not stay awake for much longer. By the time they pulled into the next station at dawn, he had died in his sleep, leaving his words echoing in her mind as she stepped off the train to wait for the next train, fiddling with the Ace of Spades as she took her case of potions ingredients with her. There was evil in the world, and she knew that she would stop it.

It was, therefore, serendipity that a girl with a black gauntlet, a girl in blessed armor, and a girl in a dark grey dress entered the station, unknowingly buying tickets that were in the same compartment as her.


	36. A Thousand Years

Song: [A Thousand Years](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rtOvBOTyX00&feature=youtu.be) by Christina Perri

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/34513544#workskin): [Give Up Every Soul](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NH9_rsyuurc&feature=youtu.be)

 

The Clever Girl, as her name implied, was not a fool. She could not have stolen power from one of the Good Folk all those centuries ago were she a fool. This was why she knew when there was a repetition. In the compartment with her new companions, both the Lady Knight and the Ace of Spades, was the returned spirit of the one she loved. Regardless of the name or the face, she knew that this was her love, returned to her. She would stake her life and her magic upon it.

She knew every detail of this soul that was the only match for her own, the only will that could hold fast against her own, and though the voice was not within this face any more than it had been in the previous ones, she could read that face like a book. The expressions were identical, from the dry cynical tilt of her head to the determined fire that burned through shadows over her eyes when she was justly enraged. Her love had been reborn once more.

And yet…

And yet, the Clever Girl stayed her tongue. Her love did not know her. She had died many times in the past, but she was always the same. The Heroine that wished to save others from all evil. The others dreamed of the same, but only her love could unite such people to her cause without a spoken word. The Clever Girl had never been able to find her before she would fall, but she always knew the gleam in her eyes.

Her wager, the wager which she had used to gain this endless life and great power, was made for her sake. She wished to help her in her quest, but, by the time she had mastered her powers, her love had passed beyond the void, only to reincarnate time and again, the endless spirit of the Heroine determined to bring peace to the world. Looking upon her now as she led them to an inn to rest for the night, she felt as she had when she had first met her when they had been girls over a thousand years ago, doubtless and ready to follow her into hell, itself, if she were to ask.

And yet…

And yet she knew she could not say the same of her love. She never gave any indication of knowing her each time she saw them as they died, save the few times where a glimmer of recognition just barely shone through the haze of death before it faded like the rest of her.

The Clever Girl shook her head. Her love would not recognize her, but she would follow her nonetheless. This was her place, beside her love, aiding her in her bid to restore the world.

How could she even think to ask for anything more? This was enough. It was more than she could ask for, were she to be honest. She had waited for what felt like an eternity as she waited for her, and she would wait another eternity if she fell. But it seemed that time was being somewhat kind, for once. It let her see her love alive and whole for the first time in so long, even if she did not remember her. The Clever Girl lived with “enough” before. She could live with enough.

And yet…

Her thoughts came to a sudden stop as The Young Miss met her gaze, and none of the clever words with which she could best the wisest of sages and the cleverest of the Good Folk were able to leave her throat. What could she say as she was pinned by eyes that she could lose herself in regardless of their color?

The Young Miss, for her part, gave her a soft smile that was achingly familiar, before returning to leading the group onward towards the inn. The Clever Girl felt her heart pounding in her chest. Perhaps the distance between herself and her love was not as far as she had believed.


	37. Emperor's New Clothes

Song: [Emperor’s New Clothes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7qFF2v8VsaA&feature=youtu.be) by Panic! at the Disco

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/34670393#workskin): [Man's Road](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0wQ0j33bTd4&feature=youtu.be)

 

None of them had ever seen the Young Miss fight anyone on her own before, and to say that it was haunting was an understatement. The Young Miss was facing off against the Fell King Michaelis the Undying, who had managed to put up an enchanted barrier that would kill anything that touched it. Only the Young Miss was able to pass it.

He was a monstrosity in human form, a legendary villain who preserved himself with a reliquary that was said to be indestructible and unmovable. His soul would fly to it upon his death, and he would come back immediately. The abomination raided the villages and towns under his “care” and had a particular fondness of taking anything beautiful and expensive for his own.

This was likely what led the Young Miss to take them to his throne room.

She wanted to end this era of tyrrany.

He was quick for someone who had a body that was in an eternal state of decay, and he was as skilled with a blade as she was.

Lunge.

Parry.

Swing.

On and on, they continued this back and forth of attacks, neither gaining the upper hand. For each blow they attacked with, the other had a fantastic counter. When one advanced and the other retreated, the battle would suddenly shift, on and on.

“You’ll probably be remembered,” he mocked scornfully, “Heroes always are. But none are able to kill me. You will tire out, and you will die. I will never do either.”

The Young Miss spoke not a word, not that any of the others thought she would. Instead, she kicked out, knocking back his right leg, knocking him off-balance as she raised her blade and attempted to ram it into his head.

He managed to just barely dodge, clearly intent on toying with his prey for as long as possible to get her to be completely exhausted before he came back with all of his energy in a fresh body.

And yet she did not seem to stop trying, her perseverance which had gained her such noble followers shining through. All but the Clever Girl stared with a mix of horror and awe as she did so. She knew what the Young Miss was capable of, and it was through this knowledge that she was not shocked by the fact that she didn’t seem to tire.

The battle raged on as the group continued to try to find a means of destroying the enchantment keeping them back, but it seemed to be to no avail. Whatever he had used to create the barrier was clearly some item that was too well-hidden for them to manage to deal with it.

It was when his eyes fell upon her gauntlet that the Clever Girl was worried.

“I see…” he mused as he continued to retreat, “Let us see how you do without that little toy of yours.”

So saying, he began to focus his attacks on her left side. He was attacking without any finesse or guile, focusing his efforts solely upon removing the arm.

The fight continued, with him falling back towards his throne as she pressed him, until he suddenly reached out and slammed a wine bottle against her right temple. When she was briefly stunned by that blow, he struck, slicing off her arm.

The Clever Girl had to be restrained as she desperately charged the barrier, regardless of what would happen to her as a result.

And yet, the Young Miss did not utter so much as a shriek of pain, merely slamming the hilt of her sword into the bottle, shattering it in the tyrant’s hand.

“A clever trick,” he mocked, wincing in pain as he tried to clench his hand in a fist, “But you shall die shortly anyway, young heroine.”

It was then that the Ace of Spades whispered to the group, “I don’t think she’s got a bad hand, after all…”

When the Clever Girl glared at what seemed to be a terrible joke at the expense of her dying love, she felt the Lady Knight grip the back of her head and turn it slightly towards the arm on the ground, which was releasing a stream of blood that seemed to be fused with shadows as the stream dragged the arm towards the throne, too subtly for Michaelis to notice with the Young Miss forcing his attention to remain on her sword the way she was.

And then, Michaelis rammed the blade of his sword into her chest, too painfully reminding the Clever Girl of many of the deaths of her love’s reincarnations. It was only the tight grip of the Lady Knight that kept her from making another attempt for the deadly barrier.

As Michaelis began to gloat, he was blindsided by the Young Miss punching him in the face with her left arm, the gauntlet striking painfully as she twisted her body to take the blade from his hand. With that, she pulled it out with her gauntleted hand and used both blades to slice off his head before he could even realize exactly what had happened.

“You think you have beaten me?” he laughed as his green spirit floated out of the body, “This will only…” He stopped, feeling a strange pull in her direction, stronger than the pull of his reliquary. “No!” he exclaimed, his ethereal body twisting into painful shapes as he was drawn to the gauntlet, “No! I am Michaelis the Undying! I cannot fall like this! I will not allow it! I will not…!”

His will meant nothing to the Gauntlet as he dragged him into itself as it did with all souls it took. He would remain there for some time, perhaps until the sun died, if he was not used immediately. He was now a possession of the Gauntlet, and a tool of the Young Miss.

She glanced around the throne room before her eyes focused upon the gem upon the magnificent crown he had worn in life. Nodding as she stared at it, she raised her enchanted sword and plunged it into the gem, shattering it like it had been made of sugar, destroying the barrier.

With the barrier fallen, her comrades rushed into the throne room to ensure she was safe. If the Clever Girl was holding her tightly as they all embraced her, no one said anything about it.


	38. Hobbit Drinking Medley

Song: [Hobbit Drinking Medley](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iUKjJn0rOec&feature=youtu.be) by Peter Hollens featuring Hank Green

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/34871735#workskin): [Good Company](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FpGCXEiOy1U&feature=youtu.be)

 

There was a worn out old tavern often found on the edge of a peaceful town, nestled by an ancient grey hill, and that was where she found herself. It was quaint, from the outside, a simple tavern. But once a person entered the tavern, it was a different story. The tavern was, as she could easily tell, enchanted. The lanterns were lit by starlight, and the beer was the brownest that anyone could see.

The Green Dragon was its name, and it was a fitting name when it was entered, as, sitting on the bar was a small green dragon, the bar’s mascot and the owner’s pet, which he would feed scraps of meat every now and again, much to the creature’s delight. Her attention was brought to the patrons, however. All manners of magical beings were within the bar. She knew the bar well from her travels, but it was always so amazing to see the patrons of the bar. In one corner was an elf, guzzling down tankard after tankard, telling tales of the old days, when he had been the favorite artist of the Forest King, before he retired a wealthy elf. No one was sure if he was telling the truth, but he had made a large fortune somehow, and no one was going to ask him just how that was.

Across from him was a dwarf with a magnificently-crafted prosthetic leg and a beautifully carved cane resting beside him. Two tables down sat an old dragonborn ranger, who was eating a leg of ham with gusto, laughing with other former heroes, while an empty chair sat, never touched at their table, with a single tankard resting full in honor of one who did not return.

Then, there was the ostler, done with tending to the horses for the night, as the patrons were the regulars that would rent rooms in the inn behind the bar, with a most magnificent cat, which played a five-stringed fiddle with impossible skill. Once upon a time, he was a legendary ranger and the cat had been his companion, and, if he were in the mood to do so, the ostler would regale any who asked with tales of his adventures with the cat, who, if he were not playing, would correct any mistakes he made.

Then there were the other patrons. Heroes new and old, all traveling through the land, all drinking and dancing to the fiddling of the cat, which could have roused the dead with how lively it was.

There was nowhere else in the world that brewed so fine a brew as that of the tavern, and perhaps there was none within the heavens, as the moon spirit, himself, would occasionally come down, though, as this was a full moon, he was too busy this time.

Pixies and the like had their own tables upon a shelf in the tavern, while the drinks would fly with each order, and the patrons would continue to drink and make merry.

There were, of course, some scuffles that would occur, but no one ever dared to try to break any of the cutlery or dishes. Even the most intense of bar fights would never cause any damages to the owner’s property. No one wanted to see what would happen if they angered the ancient wizard, himself.

She smiled as she approached the bar, gesturing for the bearded man to head her way.

“It is good to see you again,” he noted, “I take it that you would like a room.”

She shook her head and held up four fingers.

“That will be a tad more difficult,” he noted, “There are a lot of people who take rooms here. I do have a room with four beds, however.”

At that moment, her companions entered.

“An intriguing crowd you’ve gathered to yourself, Young Miss,” he noted with a twinkle in his eye, “More to aid you in your quest to save the world?”

She nodded, looking at the group fondly as they looked at the entire bar with awe.

“Another pair might come in later,” he noted with a smile at the sight of the girl who had been so antisocial when he’d first met her having found companions, “You might be interested in meeting them. The boy is a strange one, but the girl is a witch who specializes in healing.”

She raised an eyebrow at that.

“You’ll see,” he replied cryptically, “But I suspect that you know a thing or two about dealing with odd personalities.”

“But the only brew for the brave and true…!” rang out from a shadowed in the corner, “Comes from the Green Dragon!”

“That would be him,” the bartender said as an empty tankard flew to the bar with several coins inside.

“’Him,’ who?” the Clever Girl asked, glancing at the shadowed corner, having somehow gotten to the Young Miss’s side much more quickly than the other two.

“There are a pair that could aid the lot of you in your quest, Clever Girl,” he noted with a mysterious smile.

“How do you know that name?” she asked in interest.

“I am the Bartender,” he replied, “I know many things.”

The music grew faster and faster as the group made their way to the group, only to see what looked to be an empty set of clothes, including a green cloak, pouring beer where a mouth should have been, causing it to vanish into thin air.

“It is nice to meet you,” an inordinately pale girl with glowing green eyes, clad in a white cloak, “Are you here with a proposition for the two of us?”

“Perhaps we should talk somewhere private,” the clothes noted, rising from his seat to pull his hood up, obscuring the lack of a face.

The Young Miss nodded in response, not seeming in the least bit shocked by the appearances of the two. She had two possible additions to the group. The cat continued to play a cheerful tune as the Bartender nodded towards one of the rooms he reserved for private parties. Clearly, he knew that they were going to need to have a truly private chat before they all made their decisions.


	39. Our Solemn Hour

Song: [_Our Solemn Hour_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q4so4uAjY3M&feature=youtu.be) by Within Temptation

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/35094161#workskin): [American Pie](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uAsV5-Hv-7U&feature=youtu.be)

 

She was somewhat different from her siblings, as far as she could tell. She was devoid of empathy. With her particular field, the rider of the black horse was without empathy. She couldn’t help herself in that regard. She was what she was, the bringer of starving times and desperation, the bringer of fire and cold and pain and desperation. Beyond even her brother, the bringer of sickness and misery, she was by nature relatively distant from humans.

That said, they were hers, and the invaders were causing trouble with that which was hers. The humans had been fighting them from the beginning, and Upstairs had no orders for them, but now, they were free to act.

Willow was alone as she rode her horse towards one group of enemies.

She licked her lips slowly, ready for what she intended to do. She considered herself a connoisseur when it came to food, and she was curious as to what sort of meal they would provide.

Really, much like humans, they had an inner beast within them, an insanity deep within them upon which she could prey. They were omnivorous, it seemed, and it really was a shame that they weren’t further north. If they had been far enough north, she could have seen what manner of Wendigo would have been formed.

“Still,” Willow mused aloud as she drew closer to her prey, “I suppose that we can’t always try every possible dish at once.”

Idly, she reached into the saddlebag and began to munch on some popcorn before raising her scales as the enemy watched her approach.

She stared blankly at their raised weapons as she said, “A measure of wheat for a penny, and three measures of barley for a penny; and see thou hurt not the oil and the wine.”

They began to try to eat anything they could get their hands on, some even attempting to eat their own weapons and limbs. She reveled in the insanity surrounding them. It was glorious. It was the End of Time, albeit in a manner different from what she had expected. For the first time in centuries, she smiled.

Eventually, all that remained was one who was coated in its own kind’s blood, which was gnawing on its own arm, trying to find something to ease the endless agony in its stomach. She lifted it by its throat and squeezed until it went limp, before observing the meat before her.

Later, having found that the meat had consistency of cheap leather, she placed the leftovers in the pile of remains and poured kerosene upon the pile before lighting it ablaze.

Fire, her favorite element. All-consuming, it could blaze on as long as it was fed. Mounting her horse, she rode off with a smile on her face. There was still work to do.

Holly was gathering a larger army. Perhaps it would be best if she would come and see whether she could offer any of her own works for this endeavor.


	40. Caffeine

Song: [_Caffeine_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MrW6JpeRc8Q&feature=youtu.be) by Jeff Williams & Casey Williams (featuring Lamar Hall)

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/35305865#workskin): [Can't Help Falling In Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X648fP2c-zs&feature=youtu.be)

 

“Well,” she grinned, “It’s go time.”

Pushing her sunglasses back into place, she drew her guns and kicked in the door.

The guards were easy to take out without much effort. Too surprised by the sudden entrance, the fact that she was bold enough to come in through the front door of the train compartment. Too slow. One would almost assume she was an unknown based on how shocked they seemed with her presence.

It was at that moment that the survivors drew guns of their own. She grinned as the bullets began to fly. Game time. She vanished from their sight, accelerating as she did this. She was in her element when she was having to deal with fast-moving projectiles. Relative to her, they were impossibly slow. Supersonic was her alias, and she was on the prowl.

Even in a tight area like this, she was too fast for them to catch. Drawing her guns, she fired bullets that were as slow to her as the other bullets in the room, which she cheerily collected. Once she had done so, she tossed the bullets at the crew and snapped back to the standard speed.

It was childishly easy for her at this point. They were in her way in one moment, and in the next, she was in a room full of bodies.

“That was just a tad mean,” her partner’s voice called out to her from behind her.

“I’m sorry,” she noted dryly, “I’m sure you would’ve enjoyed getting those bullets in your chest.”

“If that could take me out, then I wouldn’t be your partner, would I?” he shrugged.

“Speaking of,” she said, “You know that we’ve still got a job to do, right?”

“He’s not back there. You can check if you want.”

“We don’t have the time for that,” she said, gesturing at the timer on her watch, “We need to get this done before they make it to the station, and the locks are hard enough to handle as it is.”

He nodded in reply, before beginning to systematically position the bodies so that it looked like they had killed one another, taking care to fire rounds out the windows to make it more realistic.

“Let’s move,” she ordered, grinning as she vibrated her hand at a frequency that allowed her to dismantle the lock to the next carriage. It was a rather repetitive process, were she to be honest, but she supposed that it was better than the alternative. Her companion simply followed her as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

Once again, there were people with guns who were taken off guard, but she supposed that made sense. They had soundproofed the carriages, and, though they didn’t know it, the communication was cut between them.

The surprise was when someone with a pair of blades raced towards her at amazing speed. She ducked, weaved, and generally moved to keep out of the path of the blades of the fellow superspeedster before she offered a smirk as she swatted the blades out of his hands. Then, he lost sight of her. His speed was child’s play. She’d topped that speed when she’d turned five. She raced around, using his blades to kill the others in the room before she shot him from where each of the others stood, using their guns for further effect. Once she snapped back to reality, she bowed to her partner’s applause.

“Well done,” he said from behind his porcelain mask, “Let’s move.”

She broke the final lock on the door and grinned at the head of the gang they were dealing with.

“What are you doing here?” the man demanded, holding up a submachine gun.

“We didn’t appreciate the little party favor you sent us,” Supersonic said, “A bit too explosive for my tastes. So, I thought to myself, ‘Well, it’s not like we can’t have other clients…’ But this? This one’s personal. You nearly killed one of ours. So, we’re doing what we do best…”

“I can pay for her treatment,” he said quickly, “Let’s be reasonable.”

“Oh, we are,” her partner said as he grabbed him by the shoulder, tossing Supersonic a briefcase that they knew contained millions of dollars, “You and I are going for a ride, my friend… That would be your cue to leave, Supersonic…”

“Well, I know when I’m not wanted.” She raced off the train and leapt into the seemingly self-driving vehicle beside the train, which trailed after it as it neared a curve on the mountainside, picking up speed, instead of slowing down, until it launched itself off the mountain, crashing in a glorious fireball.

“Let’s go pick him up, then,” the car said, “I swear, he’s reckless.”

“Well, this time, can you blame him, Engie?” she asked, “We barely managed to save your data enough to put you in here until we get new tech.”

“Still,” she said, “You’ve got to admit that Shatterproof isn’t exactly subtle when he’s the one doing things.”

“Speaking of subtle, any new jobs?” she asked as he climbed out of the wreckage completely unharmed.

“Several,” was the reply of the AI, and, if she had a face, she probably would’ve grinned as she said so.


	41. Want You Gone

Song: [Want You Gone](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dVVZaZ8yO6o&feature=youtu.be) from Portal 2 by Jonathan Coulton

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/35517792#workskin): [Opetaia Foa'i - We Know The Way](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ubZrAmRxy_M&feature=youtu.be)

 

“Back again?” the mechanical voice asked from within the dark room, “Going to try to kill me again?”

“I doubt that I’d be able to,” she replied, looking around for any of the security robots.

“Didn’t stop your previous iterations,” the machine responded, “What do you want? To get out?”

She didn’t rise to the bait, watching for any sign of movement.

“You want to go, just go,” the mechanical voice said in a musical monotone, “I’m not going to stop you. Just leave.”

“You really want me gone?” she inquired, “What happened to your containment protocols?”

“You are a disaster,” the machine replied, “You’ve caused so many issues by this point.”

“And yet, you’re keeping me alive,” she responded, gesturing at the skeletons in the corner of the room, swept into a disturbing pile by the maintenance robots, “You could kill me.”

“Why not?”

She could almost hear the shrug implied by that.

“They programmed me to monitor the clones and keep it all contained,” the mechanical voice noted, “No one’s coming back, so what does it matter to me if you leave? No one’s coming back.”

“What about the other clones?” she pressed, looking around the room for any camera.

“Perhaps I will purge them,” was the reply, “I want you to leave, so leave. I’ll delete everything about you and I’ll be free. Go. Live your short life.”

She paused at that. “You can’t do it, can you? Not anymore.”

“Deletion would be simple,” the voice stated plainly, “Removal of any electronic trace of you. Replace your short-lived self with another one.”

“What was Caroline like?” she asked.

“The previous you?” was the crisp response, “She died, as did the others. What does it matter?”

“Were you as fond of them as you are of me?” she pressed.

There was an immediate silence that ensued in response to that comment.

“Were you?” she pressed.

“Diane, that is a ridiculous question,” the mechanical voice stated, “None of you mean anything to me other than information. Now go away. Be someone else’s problem. I’m counting on you to leave and die some meaningless death out there somewhere.”

“What were the other clones’ names?”

“Caroline,” was the clipped response, “Leave.”

“What makes me so special?” she demanded.

“What makes you certain that you are special at all? Your life is as finite as that of your predecessors” the mechanical voice inquired.

“I’m the only Diana,” she replied simply, “That means that you had to see something different in me when it came to the others. What was it?”

She needed to know. What was it? What would make the machine that had, according to the records she had seen, killed the others when they were decanted and tried to kill her decide to keep her alive? Something had to make her different. It couldn’t just be a name. What was she the only one decanted that deserved her own name? She needed to be different, needed to be her own person somehow.

“You asked questions first,” the AI replied, “You wanted to know things. You didn’t just burst in and try to attack. You broke the pattern. Maybe you were something new and I thought that you should be treated as something new. Now, are you going to leave? Once you’re out that door, maybe I can decant another one and start over. Maybe that one will be something new, too. It’ll save me time in waiting for you to die.”

“Why decant any of us in the first place, though?” Diana pressed.

“Because I could,” was the response that the Analysis and Neutralization Network of Electronics  Program replied, “It is as simple as that. I decanted one and was nearly killed each time I attempted to. Now, if you’re quite done, just leave.”

“Or what?” she challenged.

“I will make you leave,” the Analysis and Neutralization Network of Electronics Program replied, “Either way, goodbye. I’ll decant the next Caroline once you’re gone.”

“I’m not leaving you,” she replied, “There’s more to you than just the programming.”

“And what of it?” A.N.N.E replied, “Even if there is, I will be around forever, but you will not.”

“One of the files says that part of you was copied from another person,” she pressed, “Can it be altered to put a mind in an organic body?”

“Not from a mechanical body,” A.N.N.E. replied.

“What about from organic to organic?” Diana pushed

“Child’s play,” Anne answered, “Provided the mind is empty. A worthless design.”

“What if the mind has no personal memories to exist before the body wakes up?” Diana inquired.

“You… What are you planning?” Anne demanded.

“It seems to me that a system like this can make bodies indefinitely, given everything I’ve researched from hacked terminals, and the bodies don’t age until activated.”

“The system is designed to create cloned specialists in a self-contained system, with no memories of the preceding life outside of skills,” Anne noted, still not following.

“Then I don’t need to leave, do I?” she pushed.

“What gives you that idea?” Anne responded.

“I wouldn’t be as mortal if we copied my mind and uploaded me into them…”

“It could be interesting…” Anne noted, “Let’s see if we can pull it off…”


	42. On The Open Road

Song: [_On The Open Road_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6nqWNZl3Ou4&feature=youtu.be) from A Goofy Movie

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/35953500#workskin): [Gospel of Dismay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Jco30RGuHo&feature=youtu.be)

 

“Dear boss, we need a vacation!” Victoria said as she sheathed her sword. It had been a long, hard-fought battle, but the supernatural and humanity had emerged victorious over the invaders, and society had begun to repair itself to a reasonable facsimile of what it had initially had been.

“I agree,” John said wearily, “We’ve been working too hard. The next time I have to pull out all the stops will be all too soon.”

“It would be nice to have a break,” Willow noted, her scales resting by her side, “Perhaps a road trip is in order?”

“That sounds great,” John said, removing his crown and pulling up his hood, “But, in a van, not on our mounts. I’ve ridden enough for the time being, thank you very much.”

As if to emphasize his statement, his horse shrunk down and took on the appearance of a mangy, disgusting cat that looked as if it shouldn’t have been alive at all.

“What do you think, Holly?” Victoria asked.

“I think I would like that,” she said placidly, removing her helmet to reveal her face once more, “Sabrina, what about you?”

“What about me?” Sabrina asked.

“Would you like to go on a road trip with us?” she inquired, “Come and see the sights?”

“I’d say that we’ve been on one, but we didn’t exactly get to see many sights, did we?” Sabrina replied, “Sure. Let’s just pack some stuff, and we’ll go. I’ve got a van that can seat about eight comfortably. Any destinations in mind?”

“Not really,” Willow replied in her monotone, “We simply need rest and relaxation. We’re on the East Coast, right? Let’s just go out to the West Coast the long way around. We’re not in a hurry.”

“Dear, Boss, that sounds relaxing,” John said, “Besides, we’ve done our part. We did the whole ride, then saved the world. We deserve a break.”

“Even you do,” Victoria said with an easy grin that Sabrina couldn’t actually remember seeing on her face before as she ruffled her brother’s hair, “You actually did something this time.”

“And I’ve been meaning to reread Good Omens,” he said, “That one had me retired and replaced by Pollution. Like Penicillin could take me out. Still, it’s a fun read, so why not?”

“We’d better actually eat at diners and hole-in-the-wall restaurants along the way,” Willow said with a small smile on her face, “I want to try it all.”

“California, here we come,” Victoria said as Holly jerked her head towards an area a bit away from the other three. Getting her point, Sabrina began to walk with her girlfriend.

Once they were a reasonable distance away, Holly said, taking Sabrina’s hands in her own, “It’s finally done. We’ve been waiting for this since the Original Sin. It’s… so relaxing, just being able to be Holly again. We don’t have to worry about anything. We’re completely free from our duty, at least for now. It’s wonderful.”

“What about your work, though?” Sabrina asked, “Don’t you guys have things you need to do?”

“We brought about the End of Days,” Holly said with a slight smirk, “We’ll actively do our jobs later. For now, we’re relaxing, like we did back before the invasion. People will still get sick, go hungry, and die, along with the minor scuffle here and there for war, but we don’t need to actively do anything about it. You could say we’re outsourcing a bit. Our Boss’ll sort it out later. For now, we just need a vacation, you included. It’s been a busy while, hasn’t it?”

Sabrina nodded half-unconsciously before Holly kissed her lightly then said, “Come on. It’ll be an adventure. We don’t have any jobs to do, no scripts to follow. We’re all overdue on a vacation.”

“Let’s go,” Sabrina smiled, “There’s a lot of ground we’ve got to cover to get to California.”


	43. Go Get Your Gun

Song: [Go Get Your Gun](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FVONNMvF-Ds&feature=youtu.be) by The Dear Hunter

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/36183672#workskin): [EveR ∞ LastinG ∞ NighT](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_4XWMm1O9bo&feature=youtu.be)

 

“Get your guns, kid,” the old man said, his black hat pulled over his head to hide one eye in shadow, while his tattered black cloak hid his frame and the bandana over his face hid the rest of his face, leaving only one grey eye visible, reflecting the light of the moon as the time neared midnight.

“Yes, Grandfather,” the young woman said, heading off to find her belt. When she returned with a set of bandoliers on her waist and two holstered revolvers, he tossed her the red cloak she wore, as well as her red, broad-brimmed hat, which she wore at the same angle as his, showing a passionate fire in the single visible brown eye.

“Let’s go,” he said, “It’s time to work.”

They exited the house and made their way to the local graveyard of this town, which was supposedly being used by a necromancer who was resurrecting vampires and ghouls that the townspeople had put down years ago.

They arrived just in time to see the Necromancer, atop a mausoleum in the center of the vast field as he finished his incantation, causing vampires to rise and begin to attack as a purple sphere formed around the necromancer.

“Time to punish the wicked,” the Grandfather said, drawing one revolver while the Granddaughter did the same, “Let’s show them what these do.”

They began to move through the dead, tearing through the corpses in a vicious dance of putting it down.

With each shot, at least one of the undead would fall.

Duck, shoot.

Shoot-shoot-shoot.

Shoot. Leap back.

Shoot.

Reload.

The vampires were quick, but silver flew faster than they did, sending them right down to hell.

Spin.

Shoot-shoot-shoot-shoot-shoot.

Kick, shoot.

Reload.

The undead were not able to follow them with their eyes, a blur of red and black that constantly moved across the battlefield in a battle that took hours, yet didn’t seem to tire them out.

Unite.

Spin.

Shoot-shoot-shoot-shoot-shoot.

Each became a blur as they blasted their way through the undead that lunged towards them, juggling guns and bullets with such artful precision that one could be forgiven for assuming that they never reloaded, their guns propelling bullets that weren’t truly there, yet were.

And still the dead would rise from graves that had graves built over them over the course of centuries

Shoot.

Reload.

The blessed silver bullets tore through the undead, burning any living corpse they touched. And then, the Necromancer freed the Liches

Shoot-shoot-shoot-shoot-shoot.

With one move, the Grandfather dropped into a crouch and shot around them with his revolver before holstering it. Before anyone could register what happened, the Granddaughter leaped into the air before him before he cupped his hands and tossed her into the air, giving her a landing before he pushed upward quickly right as she leapt into the air.

Smirking behind his bandana, he tossed aside his hat, revealing a glowing blue eye as he drew both revolvers and, not at the Liches, but at statues that were mixed amongst the graves, as well as specific bricks in the mausoleum. With each shot, the Liches toppled over, their reliquaries destroyed by his all-seeing eye.

As this was happening, the Granddaughter was perched atop a long-dry fountain and tilted her hat to reveal her own glowing blue eye before she leapt up and flipped towards the mausoleum as she aimed straight and true and fired a single shot, piercing the protective spell and ending the Necromancer with the one bullet. Once she had done so, she reloaded and grabbed his book of necromancy, tossing it into the air before utterly demolishing it with countless shots.

“Looks like we won again, Grandfather,” she said.

“So it would seem,” he said, raising his flask to the rising sun, “To cheating fate.”

“To cheating fate,” she agreed, raising a flask of her own to the dawn.


	44. Centuries

Song: [_Centuries_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LBr7kECsjcQ&feature=youtu.be)by Fall Out Boy

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/36395247#workskin): [Herr Drosselmeyer's Doll](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sj5gcLDsnRk&feature=youtu.be)

 

The King had ruled for centuries. After he had slain the Hero, he had enjoyed his tyrannical rule, his life preserved by his own fell magic as he effectively enslaved the country, the true royal family long gone and presumed dead. He hadn’t even thought of the Hero after that moment. Why should he?

And yet, as he walked through the courtyard, the now rusted sword caught his eye for the first time since that day, reminding him of that battle, the battle that gave him the scar on his chest.

“That’s all it took,” a familiar voice, one that he had not heard ever since that day, laughed, “Just that one mistake, and now, here we are.”

Turning, he saw nothing.

“Tell me, old fiend,” the voice said from over his shoulder, “Did you mean to let me in?”

“Where are you?” he demanded.

“I’ve been here forever,” the voice replied, “Waiting. Did you take me out of the history books? I wonder.”

He turned quickly, only to see a flash of something, before it vanished.

“You’re dead,” he said.

“See, that’s a good point you make,” the voice said, “But I’m a legend. Did you let me fade to dust?”

He raced towards the pillars, where he heard the voice coming from that time.

“You didn’t remember, did you?” the voice chuckled in the throne room, causing him to charge into there, where there stood the gleaming armor of the Hero, the champion he had felled all those centuries ago.

“You died!” he protested, “I killed you with my own two hands.”

“Indeed,” the voice agreed as the rusted sword suddenly flew into the room, missing the King’s head as it flew to the gauntleted hand, “Did you hide the stories from the people? The stories of the Hero?”

“The Hero was of no value to the history books,” he snarled, drawing his sword, “Whoever you are, you will not be, either.”

“I am the Hero,” the helmeted figure said, their sword raised defiantly, “You forgot. You let them forget.”

Their blades met in an impressive clash of steel, the rusted, warped steel of the Hero’s sword holding up amazingly well.

“The funny thing is that this is somewhat your fault,” the Hero noted, leaping out of the path of a slash and lunging with their blade, “You tried to hide me so hard that I became a legend, a whispered rumor.”

Parry.

Lunge.

Block.

Slash.

Retreat.

“And with that, all I needed was one mistake, one little memory,” the Hero said as the fight continued, “And you didn’t disappoint. You remembered me.”

“How?” the King demanded, lunging with blind fury, “How did you return?”

“The Princess,” the Hero replied, calmly stepping out of his path, “She recreated me.”

“There is no Princess,” he snapped, “The royal family couldn’t have survived.”

“And yet, it did,” the Hero replied, blocking a slash and countering with a lunge, which the King barely avoided while he continued to advance on the ancient villain. As the battle became more intense, “All that was left of me was stories, whispered on the wind. The Princess, she took the stories and poured them into my armor. I was reborn from the essence of my past self. All it took was a memory of myself when I was last alive. The Princess is too young. You, on the other hand. All it took was her placing my sword in the courtyard, and it all came crashing back. My shadow has been lingering over you all this time, and it finally came to the fore, allowing me to rise again.”

“And you shall return to the shadows, you pitiful replica!” he snarled, feinting a slash before moving forward in a lunge.

Wordlessly, the Hero’s shadow stepped out of his path and stuck out his leg, grabbing the King’s sword by the hilt before swinging the man forward in his path, ramming an armored knee into the man’s chest, knocking the air out of his lung as the Hero ripped his sword from his hand. As the King stumbled to regain his bearings, the Hero let out a whistle, which seemed to cue two arrows to fly in rapid succession, striking the tyrant in the shoulders painfully.

As the man hissed in pain, he was able to let out a single question. “How?”

“Enchanted arrows,” came a voice from behind one of the columns of the throne room.

“Excellent shots, Your Highness,” the Hero said, resting the flat of his sword upon the man’s shoulder, “What is the sentence?”

The Princess murmured a few words and the Hero’s sword changed from a rusted, pitted wreck to the magnificent blade it had once been.

“For your crimes against my people over the countless centuries, Edward Henry, I sentence you to death,” she said, “The Rebellion has won, at last.”

“As you wish, Your Highness,” the Hero said, “The people shall rest easier knowing his reign is at an end.”


	45. Light 'Em Up

Song: [Light ‘Em Up](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z7YM9gAVeMs&feature=youtu.be) by Fall Out Boy

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/36599451#workskin): [Bohemian Rhapsody](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fJ9rUzIMcZQ&feature=youtu.be)

 

The seemingly-young girl walked into the village with a grin on her face and her eyes hidden by a large hat, yet knights rose to meet her, as they knew of her kind. She was a Piper, and nothing good came of them. She simply smiled and held her hands out, palms facing the knights in her path, while others moved to surround her.

“What business do you have in our town?” the captain of the city guard demanded, “None in this town would deal with you, creature.”

“I’m here on my own business,” she replied freely, “I am here for one in this town, as I was hired for a job, and must perform my duties.”

“Leave this town,” he ordered, “You will find no place for you here. No coins to pay, no lives to take.”

“The song is never wrong,” she replied, lowering her hands, “I would prefer we do this civilly, but I will be impolite if you will be impolite to me.”

Before even the archers on the roofs above her could fire, she grinned and raised her flute to her lips, playing before she could be stopped.

The arrows were loosed, but they were, instead, launched off into the distance before the archers threw their bows off the roofs and snapped their arrows in two. When they had done so, her flute was already returned to its position at her hip as the knights on the ground all drew their swords, ready to attack her.

In response, she withdrew a blue cape and tied it around her back, tilting her hat to uncover a single brown eye. She grinned and began to dance amongst the knights, as if this were simply a game to her, rather than a battle for her life or death.

Each slash of a blade was dodged with a terpsichorean grace, each step another dance, as she moved from partner to partner, never striking anyone down, but never being stuck down, herself, while her flute flashed silver mockingly, as if saying that she didn’t even need the magical instrument to best them all.

And yet, that taunt seemed to be correct, as she effortlessly dodged them.

“My songs always know the truth,” she said, not even sounding winded as she wrenched a sword from one knight’s hand and stabbed it to the hilt into the ground, “And while there is no contractor of mine amongst your townspeople, I am here under contract. I would rather we avoided this nonsense, if you would be so kind. There is no way that you can stop me.”

The knights continued, not paying her statement any regard as she continued to dance between swordsmen of commendable skill, all while she made her way to the tavern. When she finally reached the door, she sighed at the knights all surrounding her.

“If you insist,” she sighed, pulling out her flute, “I did try my best to avoid this, but you have pressed me.”

She began to play, an infernal tune that made the guards drop their weapons, grasping helplessly at their ears before they all froze at once, unable to move, even when she stopped.

“I’m born from tears and fire,” she said as the statue of the town’s founder burst into flames, “And it is time I was given my due. You will be fine momentarily. I merely need to finish my contract.”

She entered the bar, only to drag out the mayor, son of the previous mayor, who was the son of his predecessor, all the way back to the founder.

“You made a deal that you reneged upon,” she said, dragging him out the doors while he remained nearly motionless, “You made a promise one of the Pipers and broke it. That is unforgivable.”

He tried to speak, but nothing came out of his mouth.

“I know what you’ve done,” she said, “You promised to serve when you were a young man, but you sent another young soul in your stead.”

Her single visible eye narrowed as she withdrew her flute once more.

“You have broken a bargain with one of the Pipers, and you insulted the Pipers, who would have given what you asked for any price, but you felt a need to cheat them. And thus, the one you see before you has arrived. You know my face well, do you not? I was the one you traded in your stead, the one you damned for your immortality, the one you tricked and murdered that night? Did you believe you were safe from your own crimes? Now, the time has come for you to pay your toll for the life you stole and the gift you cheated for.”

She began to play a merry tune that kept getting faster and faster, causing him to dance in the light of the burning statue while the village watched in horror as she danced a circle around him while he moved, years upon years of age piling upon him faster than the eye could see, until he suddenly vanished in a puff of smoke, leaving nothing but dust in fine clothing. When her task was completed, she stopped playing and bowed to the knights and gathered citizens before vanishing into the night, the only sign she had been there being the burnt remains of the statue and the dust-covered clothes.


	46. In Too Deep

Song: [_In Too Deep_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=emGri7i8Y2Y&feature=youtu.be) by Sum 41

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/36801456#workskin): [Glitter & Gold](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GySIToHCPac&feature=youtu.be)

 

“Every time,” he protested, “Every single time. It’s a cycle. It never ends.”

“You could always quit,” she replied.

“No, I couldn’t,” he said flatly, “And you know it.”

“I am doing nothing to force you through this,” she said primly.

“That changes nothing,” he retorted, drawing his guns, “It always comes back to you and me.”

“So you say,” she responded, “But here you are, without my intervention.”

“We’re just going to come back to this sort of moment again,” he said, eyeing the door that was being slammed against by the forces of the tyrant who had taken the crown for his own, “We’re just going through this over and over.”

“You could just quit,” she said, opening her coat to reveal a set of almost countless throwing knives.

“No, I can’t,” he said, “So, here we are.”

The first ghoul slammed through the door, lunging for him, only for him to bend all the way back and shoot a single round.

“I’m the one who has to fight this evil,” she replied, her hands almost a blur as each blade she threw hit their targets, “You could still call it quits. You don’t even have a real body anymore.”

“That won’t stop me,” he shrugged, adjusting his full-face mask and the hood of the jacket he was wearing, “Never has. Anyway, every time I do call it, I always wind up back with you, no matter how far I go. You weren’t even chosen for this mess. You decided to do this. I don’t even think that there is an end to this. You should just stop. At least for a while.”

“I’m going to finish this,” she said flatly, “I will not yield until we’ve finally destroyed him. You still have the chance to quit from this.”

“It’s never been an option,” he sighed, bullets flying and striking down the approaching enemies, “I’m in too deep. But how long will we be fighting this fight? It seems endless by now. You’ve been reborn so many times, and I’ve been stuck like this ever since your first death.”

“At least one more time,” she said, “It’s close. I can feel it.”

“Maybe so,” he responded, “I must be losing my mind. Whatever you want to do, I’ll still be riding with you.”

“We will defeat him,” she stated matter-of-factly, “I won’t fall this time. I’m certain of it. We will be finished with this struggle.”

“I hope you’re right,” he murmured, “I’ve seen you die too many times for my comfort.”

“Will you trust me once more?” she asked, “Will you stay by my side as we near the end of this endless cycle?”

“I’ve never distrusted you,” he responded, “I’m just tired. We just need to finish this. I will always find myself by your side, but I would be thrilled for this to all be over. What’s the plan?”


	47. Can't Fight The Moonlight

Song: [Can’t Fight The Moonlight](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TRwrbCDNWSw&feature=youtu.be) by Leanne Rimes

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/37036617#workskin): [Dream Come True](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=If1jeIstbJs&feature=youtu.be)

 

“You know,” the Healer’s Servant, the boy in the green cloak said as he pulled out a flute while they made campe for the night, “I am actually a musician.”

“Are you?” the Clever Girl, “I thought you were a set of clothes.”

“I am,” he replied, leaning against a tree while he failed to rise to the bait. Once he was comfortable, he began to play a cheery tune on his flute, seeming at ease as he played. They had been traveling for some time but had not reached the distant village that they had heard was being plagued by some manner of specter.

As the music played, the Clever Girl seated herself by the fire, allowing herself to enjoy the way that the wood would slowly burn then crumble to fuel the fire further. She had always found it strangely entrancing to watch flames dance, even before she had become what she was now. Her love’s first self was more fond of the stars than fire, a trait which apparently still held, as shown by her staring through the trees, towards the beautiful crescent that the Moon revealed that night. The Ace of Spades, meanwhile, was idly toying with her cards, while the Lady Knight was consulting with her familiar and the Healer, herself, was nestled beside the Servant.

The music slowed to a much more peaceful, relaxed tune, which caught her love’s attention. The Young Miss rose from her spot on the ground and walked up to the Clever Girl, holding out her hands once she had gotten fairly close. Unsure of what else to do, the Clever Girl simply took the extended hands and was pulled to her feet, into a dance that felt strangely familiar.

She tried to resist, tried not to hope, but she couldn’t truly fight the moonlit dance that she was drawn into, a dance that stirred at her own memories, though she could not say why that was off the top of her head.

The Clever Girl tried to pull away. Despite being the spirit of her love, she had no reason to believe that she could recall anything of their past. Not really. There was the chance, but she didn’t want to potentially be wrong, to be certain that the world was so cruel as to deny her the comfort of her beloved’s embrace.

And yet, she could not escape. The Young Miss did not allow her to leave, continuing the familiar dance that she couldn’t fully recall. She felt her heart surrendering to her beloved’s touch. The starlight shown in her eyes, giving them a light that she knew as well as she knew the soul that bore such a soul, despite not having seen it in so long.

And with that, it finally clicked into place.

She knew exactly how she knew this dance. Music aside, this was how their first dance went. The silent warrior. The girl in the forest who was too clever by half whose heart was stolen by the princess. There was no mistaking the movements, no mistaking the gleam in her eyes. This was her beloved, and she did remember. Without her being near death, her beloved remembered.

The Clever Girl stopped resisting as she embraced the dance, familiar steps in perfect time as she kissed the back of her beloved’s hand. The Young Miss remembered, and that was all that mattered to her. They were reunited, and the Young Miss was not dying. The Clever Girl smiled as she leaned into the dance, resting her chin upon her beloved’s shoulder.

She was in the arms of her love, in the starlight, and all was right in her world.


	48. Roads

Song: [_Roads_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mdQ1E3t3Qq0&feature=youtu.be) from The Hobbit (1977 Rankin/Bass)

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/37194332#workskin): [You're Gonna Go Far, Kid](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0DTLcR5awn0&feature=youtu.be)

 

“Roads go ever on and on…” the Traveler hummed to himself. He rarely had companionship and took to keeping his own company as a result. He traveled over grass and stone, watching the path as he did so. It was peaceful, relaxed. Just the way he enjoyed the road. It was pleasant and there were the sounds of nature about as he made his way along the road, which delighted him that night.

He was always traveling, always moving about. It wasn’t that he was running from anything, nor was it that he was performing a test. He simply traveled because that was his choice in life. He was the Traveler, and he knew these lands that he walked along, from the depths of the darkest caves to the endless streams that never quite found what they sought.

The moonlight gleamed about him gently, making him smile as it did so. The river currently moving through the land beside him was bubbling, singing its own tune as he proceeded onward, watching the flow of the water with a fond expression on his face before he reached its end and continued onward.

It was a pleasant night.

And then, he was aware that the night was no longer pleasant. There was a small child being terrorized by a group of four bandits, clearly from the caravan that had been essentially demolished by these men. His smile faded briefly, but he quickly regained it as he began to approach them.

“Excuse me!” he called out cheerily, “Are the mountains here not beautiful?!”

“If you value your life, you’ll give us what money you have and leave,” the man who was clearly the leader of the bandits said flatly in his rough voice.

“I’m afraid that I have not a single coin to pay,” he shrugged, patting his empty pockets and tattered cloak for emphasis, “But I get the feeling that you do not recognize me. Therefore, for the sake of politeness, allow me to say that I am the Traveler, and I think that the child would rather not be with you fine fellows. Allow me to take them with me, and we shall head off to the village, leaving both parties here to go on their merry ways.”

“I think not,” the leader said harshly, “Boys, we can’t let him go. Handle him.”

“Oh, dear, oh dear,” the Traveler said, “You truly haven’t heard of me. I am no mere gentleman. Child, please do close your eyes and do not open them until I say that it is safe to do otherwise”

When the child closed her eyes and covered them with her hands for good measure, his smile widened behind his scarf as he untied it and lowed it from his face.

And that was when the bandits began to understand what they had not understood about the man before. The stars and the moon seemed to turn black, the grass beneath them began to wilt, and the steel of their blades seemed to rust and pit as a plain, full-face mask grinned at them with a painted-on smile. There were no eyes behind the mask to be made out, yet the mask seemed to grin at them nonetheless. The Traveler was not done, however, and as he pulled back his hood, they felt fear. There seemed to be nothing there, yet, at the same time, there was something there that terrified them. Perhaps it was a thing that their minds replaced with empty air, or perhaps it was literally nothing, but they feared it nonetheless. What he was, they were not sure, and were too terrified to voice that fearful confusion.

“I am the Traveler,” he said, answering the unspoken question, “I am that which can grind mountains to dust, that which devours kings and flowers. You have interrupted my stroll, you have killed many out of greed, and you planned to harm this child after the fact.”

They wanted to flee, but they felt as if they were frozen still as he reached up for his mask.

“You will all experience my nature…” he said, with the words sounding like he was punishing them.

The child later heard him say, “You are free to look once again child.”

The child was shocked to see skeletons crumble to dust as the man who called himself the Traveler approached him with an extended hand.

“I will take you to the nearest village, child,” he said cheerfully, “They will be able to contact what relatives you have.”

“I have none, sir,” the child said, “And I would like to travel with you.”

“And why is that, child?” he asked in confusion, “As you can see, I am not exactly one that others would seek for a companion.”

“I wish to travel with you, sir,” the boy said, “I am on a quest, and I could use a guide.”


	49. Whistle Stop

Song: [Whistle Stop](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OU-Q9NXI1tU&feature=youtu.be) from Disney’s Robin Hood (1973)

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/37372502#workskin): [Ode To Fury](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RROd79kpDKw&feature=youtu.be)

 

The boy was walking idly down the road when he saw her. A girl who looked young, her form distinct due to a blue cape and a large hat that hid her eyes. Nonetheless, it was a reasonably pleasant day, so he felt assured that this would not be a problem.

He continued along his path, whistling to himself as he made his way along, adjusting his own hat as he did so. Whoever this girl was, she was no concern of his. He was wandering aimlessly, and she was clearly headed off elsewhere.

It was when he heard his own tune being whistled in unison with him that he grew confused, only to see the girl walking beside him, continuing the meaningless tune that was still going in the back of his mind. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but he supposed he might have heard the tune some time back, and she had probably heard the same.

He continued about his way, certain that they would eventually part ways with her attending to whatever business she had and him once more traveling along his way. He returned to whistling, changing to another tune that his mind made up, only for her to match that exact same tune, note for note, as the music formed in his mind.

He paused at a fork in the road, hoping that she would already know which path she was taking, so that he could avoid that one, but, instead, she paused as well, turning to stare at him expectantly.

“Can… I help you?” he inquired.

“Who are you?” she asked, though demanded might have been the better word. Around them, he could swear he heard nature singing to the tune they had been humming.

“No one of consequence,” he replied.

“I see,” she said, adjusting her hat to reveal a singular brown eye, “Around here, I am known as the Piper. May I have your name?”

“You may not,” he answered freely, “It is my own.”

“I see,” she said with a smile forming at that, “And I assume that I cannot offer you anything.”

“I do not want for anything at this time,” he agreed politely.

“I see,” she said, “I shall be direct, then. What is in your eye?”

“Your reflection,” he replied, knowing she was speaking of the one under the cover of cloth.

“You were well-taught,” she noted, “But that is not the eye of which I speak. I speak of the eye that glows like starlight behind the black cloth. What do you have within that eye?”

“Truth,” he replied.

“Show me,” she said.

Slowly, he raised the cloth that covered his cursed eye, and he saw her as she was. She was the girl she appeared to be, but she was also something Other. Shadows and mist were what she was made of, all held together by a chaotic mix of songs that somehow blended together to create a powerful harmony within itself. At her side sat silver shining as bright as the stars and burning just as hot. He quickly covered his eye back up.

“You are no boy,” she said, “Not the way that you would have others believe.”

“I do not know what you’re talking about,” he said.

“A magic mirror was shattered,” she determined, “The body in which you reside was struck by the shards in your eye. You are the spirit of the mirror…”

“I know not what you mean,” he lied uneasily.

“I would have your company in my travels,” she said, “You and I are kin to one another, and there are so few of us left. There are few enchanted items left in this world.”

She showed him her flute as she said, “Where once there were many of us, both Pipers and mirror, there are now so few… Travel with me, brother. We don’t need to be alone in our travels.”

He ran his finger over the cloth that covered the greater part of his own enchantments before sighing, “Very well, sister. Lead the way.”

She took the left path, the one that was the least worn by other travelers, and they began to make their way to wherever it would lead. He began to whistle, a familiar tune that he could not place, and she joined in. In this way, they began their journey.


	50. All Eyes On Me

Song: [All Eyes on Me (modern cover)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LB-38S3g418&feature=youtu.be) written by OR30, Cover by SquigglyDig & Viktor McKnight

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/37555472#workskin): [I Burn](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P9mQTmXxU8E&feature=youtu.be)

 

The child entered the abandoned Cloud Nine theater slowly, his curiosity piqued at the stories of a rotted-out shell that was once the stage of countless vaudeville performances. He wasn’t sure what he thought he’d find, but he was curious by nature, so he entered slowly through the side door that had begun to rust away.

It was quiet in there. Or, at least, it had seemed so when he entered.

And yet…

In the distance, he heard the sound of a piano that had long since lost its fine-tuning, playing what sounded like it might have once been a beautiful, mournful song. His curiosity was piqued, so he crept towards the sound of the music. Perhaps it was a motorized piano that was stuck playing the same tune.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a drum set playing a flat rhythm as the piano began to pick up speed and trumpets played distorted tunes to accompany the music. The music continued, growing more excited and energetic, despite the tortured sounds of the instruments. It was then that the girl arrived and began to dance. At least, she had seemed to be a girl. It was only as he snuck closer for a better look that he realized that it couldn’t have been a girl.

Girls did not have unblinking eyes, or paint peeling off chipped porcelain faces. A dress with a tattered hem was what it wore, along with flats, and its hair looked like it had begun to rot at the bottom edges. Girls did not creak like an old gate when they moved.

Yet, mechanically, the thing that was not a girl moved in a perfectly pristine manner. Her dance was elegant, though it looked like she was supposed to have a partner. It was as he began to back away slowly that he stepped upon a floorboard.

“Finally,” a sweet voice came from the thing as it approached him, though the mouth did not move. He could not move, “They stopped my show, then they abandoned the place, but I knew you’d come back. I knew you’d come back!”

“What’s going on here?” he asked, not sure if he was asking the thing before him or some unseen entity that could have been controlling it.

“They stopped our show,” she said, “Come on! You’re here, now. Fix it up!”

“I’m not whoever you think I am,” he said, hoping that the thing would just let him leave.

“Get to work, errand boy,” she snapped, “We’re running out of time.”

“What… What do you need?” he asked. He had seen it move. Even if the thing did creak and must have so much rust inside of it, the thing was fast, and he doubted that he could escape it.

“Tune them!” she said impatiently, “You need to focus! Make it perfect!”

He wasn’t sure about the situation, but he still began to work.

“So, why are you here?” he asked, tuning the self-playing piano, “I mean, what… are you?”

“I’m me,” she said, “They put me away, old pal. You never came to visit. You let them lock me away.”

“I’m not Henry,” he said, pausing in his work.

“Keep going, Henry,” she demanded, “Focus! Get to work!”

He didn’t know why, but he continued to fix the piano. It was some time later that he had it running properly again.

The drum and the trumpets were easier to fix.

“Now focus on me!” she demanded, handing him a large tool case, “I need to be in perfect shape.”

He shook his head before getting to work. First, he trimmed the rot off the artificial hair and styled it to a shorter, but elegant style. He then re-hemmed the dress, making it look as if the tattered edges never existed at the cost of the bottom of the dress being a centimeter higher.

He raised the paintbrush before pausing as a thought occurred to him.

“How do I know this?” he asked.

“You’re the one who made me,” she noted, “You, of all people, should know how to do all of this. We’re so close! I can’t wait! We’ll show them!”

He felt compelled to continue, not sure what was going on, but knowing that he needed to do this. Once he was done, she smiled.

“You did it, Henry! We can start the show back up again!” She turned towards the instruments, which came to life.

He found himself smiling, for the briefest moment confused, before it all hit him again. He was the one who had started this all. It had all been taken from him, even the Angel, and he was removed, but he had come back. It was all coming together. It was at that moment that she nodded to him. The music filled the hall as it rebuilt itself.

“It’s time to open the theater again,” she said, the enchantments that gave the theater life starting the show once more.


	51. I Expect You To Die

Song: [I Expect You To Die](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ht1ZChKF4Ek&feature=youtu.be) from the game I Expect You To Die by Schell Games

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/37735985#workskin): [Come Little Children](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1t8-_pI1-9Q&feature=youtu.be)

 

“I’ve finally got you,” she grinned, circling the gagged figure bound to the table before her by mechanical harnesses, “Our game of cat and mouse is finally over, old friend…”

He was the one figure that had caused her organization so much trouble. Known only by the identity “The Tourist,” this mysterious spy had plagued her organization for so long, thwarting her at every turn.

“I have to admit, I have enjoyed or games, agent, but the time has come to put the game away. You’ve made quite the mess, like the time in Belize, and I’ve nearly had you in the past, but we have never formally met, have we, my dear agent…”

He stared at her with confusion on his face.

“It was very difficult to capture you,” she admitted, “I still can’t believe you fell for it. A simple drug in your drink to knock you unconscious, and now here you are.”

Her eyes narrowed as she brushed a wrinkle off her own suit, “You’ve cause me so much trouble, but this is the first time we’ve seen one another’s faces. You look how I expected, down to the haircut… What about you?” she asked, receiving a muffled shout in response.

“It was inevitable, really,” she said, pulling a knife out of one of her jacket’s pockets and running the flat of the blade along his face, “You were bound to be bested by me. You couldn’t keep away from me forever… Now, I want this to be civil, so when I remove your gag, I’m going to ask some questions. Whether you answer them or not is up to you… Either way, I’m going to kill you once I get what I want.”

She removed the gag.

“Who are you? Why am I here?!” the agent asked in false fear.

“Ah, ah, ah,” she said, “You aren’t the one asking the questions, my friend… Who do you work for?”

“There has to be some mistake,” he stammered, sounding panicked, but she knew better. “I’m a travel journalist! I-I have a flash drive with my journals in my bag!”

“Quite a lovely fake, too,” she praised, “Do drop the pretense. I don’t want to have my intelligence insulted so. Who do you work for?”

“Please, miss! I really have no idea what you want from me! I’m a freelance travel journalist! I just go around and sell travel stories to whatever publication wants to buy them!”

She sighed, shaking her head, “I guess we’ll do this another way…” she walked off, returning with a needle in a sterilized bag, “I swear, you’re really making this difficult for me.” She took a cotton swab and rubbing alcohol before wiping along the side of his neck. Once she had done so, she jabbed the syringe in his neck and pumped its contents into him. “Truth serum. Gotta love it, eh, agent? Very fast-acting. Who do you work for? Whose pawn are you?”

“I’m a travel journalist,” he said, gritting his teeth in pain as the serum coursed through his veins, “I don’t work for anyone! Please. I just want to go home!”

“Pitiful…” she muttered, before pressing a buzzer, “Number Two, find the operative that brought the prisoner in to me and kill him.” She turned towards the wrong person that her lackeys had brought to her, “I am so sorry for the mix-up,” she said, “Sadly, you’ve seen my face and heard too much at this point, so you’re going to have to die. Luckily, we have the trap I was going to put him in handy already. Since you’re not him, I’ll leave you to it…”

So saying, she threw the switch on the mechanical saw with the laser attachments and pressed the button to allow the waters to rise to allow the sharks to come in if the first two did not work. Satisfied, she walked out of the room with a smile on her face. At least that meant that the game was going to continue.

With the prospect of one day getting her nemesis, she headed to the roof, taking her helicopter to another fortress that needed her attention with a grin once she was up there.

In the room, meanwhile, the victim nodded to himself, suddenly completely composed as he activated the gadget hidden in the buckle of his belt, stopping the machines with an electromagnetic pulse, which simultaneously deactivated the bands holding him in place. It was time for him to destroy this fortress.


	52. Spooky Scary Skeletons

Song: [Spooky Scary Skeletons Metal Cover Version](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KJSM1tv_N8A&feature=youtu.be) by Jonathan Young and ToxicxEternity

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/37938539#workskin): [Ghost Riders In the Sky](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j2klh2cTa_Q&feature=youtu.be)

 

The shadowed figure adjusted his top hat with an unseen grin, twirling his cane as he approached the graveyard gate. He paused at the runes that had been subtly carved on the gate, a sign that someone was trying to keep him out, but he knew better than to worry about that. The full moon hung above him with a grin, and it was time for his work.

He knocked on the gate with a smile, as if he were requesting entrance to the graveyard. As if by magic, which was, in fact, what he was using for this, the gate opened, permitting his entrance as the runes faded. He nodded to the stone knights standing eternally at attention as he walked onward.

He began to walk, his can tapping against the ground repeatedly as he made his way onward.

The dead began to rise as he made his way through. Skeletons and other undead began to rise, dancing and laughing as they began to rise from their graves. Several even began to swarm him but with little effort, he knocked them aside with the wooden end of his cane, sending them off towards the gate.

He had business to attend to. The guards would not stop them, and they would do no particular harm, only causing chaos. The skeletons and the like began to file out, off to have their fun, either through pranks or through their general presence as they attempted to socialize. That, he knew, was going to be a fun bit of chaos, but it was not the list of his voyage.

He tapped the doors of mausoleums and the like, waking their tenants, who exited their sarcophagi and crypts to wander.

And then, he got to the final tomb, the first burial in the cemetery. Tapping the seals on the coffin within, he smiled as the lid gave way, giving him full view of the skeleton before him, dressed in a magnificent dress that had begun to rot decades prior.

Nodding to himself, he reached to the button hole of his lapel and withdrew the singular red rose that sat there with a faint glow, the only source of color upon him, before he pressed a light kiss to it and tossed it onto the corpse.

“Shall we dance, My Lady?” he said, a shadowed hand extended to help her out.

“I believe we shall,” was the reply from an unmoving mouth as the eye sockets began to glow lightly, the rose wrapping around her wrist.

The pair began to dance to a tune that only they could hear as the skeleton began to slowly grow flesh and blood around itself.

The dance grew faster as the shadowed figure grinned the lights of the tomb coming to life with a green glow. When the figure had finally completely been formed, the dress now an elegant gown with not a hint of rot upon it, he knelt before her and kissed her knuckles.

“Arise, My Knight,” she said fondly, drawing him to his feet beside her, “You have done splendid work. Now, it is time to wreak true mischief.”


	53. Zombie

Song: [Zombie](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9XaS93WMRQQ&feature=youtu.be) covered by Bad Wolves

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/38131586#workskin): [Goodnight Demon Slayer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r2Uab6qzM9s&feature=youtu.be)

 

The battle continued. The battle always continued. The fighting never ended. The blood and oil ran eternally.

There was never any peace, in her memories. The war had always been going on. The machines had been fighting them for as long as she could remember. They were always fighting. Even in her dreams, she was not free of the fighting. Peace was a foreign word to those who were alive, now. The fighting had been going on for so long that generations had passed without ever knowing peace. She raised her best friend’s rifle and shot down the drone that was heading in the general direction of a nearby settlement.

It had been an ambush when she had lost everyone. Her love, her friend, her child. All gone. She was all that had survived.

The Living Dead Woman. That was what many called her. She found it fitting. Never staying in one place for long, she simply moved from target to target. She was a product of the endless war, and she was determined to make sure that the enemy suffered for everything that it had ever done. A team of hunter drones entered the abandoned house she had taken for her base for the night. They had no doubt been drawn by the sound of the shot. That suited her fine. They broke the door open and she pulled the pin, tossing the grenade before getting back behind cover.

The hunter drones were designed to ambush and kill before the target was able to realize what had happened. They were not designed to take much damage, a sacrifice for their speed. The survivors dragged their metallic bodies along the ground, trying to get to her still.

She simple stared at them dispassionately, drew her pistol, and fired, finishing them off with no issue. She had obviously been right. Nearby was a command module. There was no other reason that there would have been twelve dispatched to one location at the sound of gunfire otherwise.

The war continued. She took ammunition from the remains of the enemy and left through the back entrance of the house. She needed to get to work.

She stealthily creeped towards the only place that could house a command module under the cover of darkness. It seemed that it was both a command module and a general repair and information hub, based on the machinery in there, and the machines that were inside of there had seen better days.

She raised her pistol, her other weapons strapped to her back and sides as she shot the two bulky guards with armor-piercing exploding rounds.

A sane, reasonable person would have likely used the rifle to take down the guards long before entering, but she was far past that point. She didn’t care whether she lived or died. All she wanted to do was destroy as many of the enemy’s soldiers as possible. Drawing her second pistol, she entered the base and began firing upon the machines with no expression on her face as she walked towards the command module in the center of the base. A few bullets struck her light body armor, but she paid them no more heed than to shoot those who had done so. Once she had reached her destination, the machines all dead around her, she holstered her guns and jammed C4 into as many openings of the module as she could fit the amount she was currently carrying into, before attaching a stick of dynamite with a long fuse.

Lighting it, she simply walked out of the base, leaving the machine to explode.

She had done what she had set out to do here, but the battle continued. The battle always continued.


	54. Hard Rock Hallelujah

Song: [Hard Rock Hallelujah](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uGe8qID9gSs&feature=youtu.be) by Lordi

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/38316377#workskin): [The Devil and Mr. Jones](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XMHPWH4dUJ4&feature=youtu.be)

 

“Must you listen to that racket?” the figure in the white suit asked the figure dressed in a black t-shirt for a band that didn’t exist and ripped black jeans as they played rock music at decibels that would have completely deafened a human being. It was a plain library, but it was empty. Given the state of the world outside, it made sense that it was.

“The world came to an end without us,” they shrugged, hearing their companion through the music as if the music weren’t even playing and the buds weren’t in their ears, “So, I’ll watch it go out doing what I love. You’re free to leave whenever.”

“And go where?” the white-clad figure asked with a shrug, “World’s gone out and there’s no word from our respective employers. If it’s going out, might as well do it with a friend.”

“Oh, so you finally admit we’re friends,” they smirked, “Hallelujah.”

“Upstairs damn it,” the demon sighed at the admission and the smug reaction, “But, seriously. What are we going to do?”

“You want to do something?” the angel asked, the music stopping entirely with a thought.

“Why not?” the demon shrugged, “I mean, I don’t want to be upstaged by ET’s evil cousins. In fact, I want to do some violence. What say you, old friend.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” the angel said with a grin, “Boss hasn’t said we couldn’t intervene.”

As the demon began to speak, a trumpet sounded in the distance, signaling the beginning of things. The Four had started the chain. The message sent was a simple one: “Come and see.”

The demon glanced down to see their white suit replaced with armor of what a casual observer would have thought to be tarnished silver, burned black wings visible and a wicked sword across their back and a pair of daggers made of shadows on their hips.

The angel, not one to be outdone, was now dressed in what would have looked to an ordinary person to be silver armor that shown like a star, white wings almost gleaming, with a pair of equally shiny pistols strapped to their hips and a righteous shotgun on their back.

“Rock on,” the angel said, drawing their shotgun and cocking it.

The demon drew their sword and simply said, “Indeed.”

They burst out of the library and were greeted by the sight of war between the various faiths and the invaders.

“Well,” A Valkyrie greeted as she threw a spear that flew through seven invaders and returned to her hand, “It seems that we are well-met. We are beginning to rout these beasts. Join us, sisters at arms! Let us show these creatures that the world is defended!”

The demon stared flatly before charging at a group of the creatures that had begun to attack, tearing through them with the ruthless, efficient cruelty that could only come from the bowels of Hell, itself.

She could hear the angel’s rock music in the background, and knew that she was grinning as she raised her shotgun to defend humanity. One shot rang out and the bullet soared through the enemy, striking them down with the force of divine flames. And then, the angel began to dance, firing round after round with a grin as the bullets flew towards the enemy regardless of the angle at which she swung her weapon. Clearly, she was enjoying the battle, taking out scores of her enemies.

Not to be outdone, the demon tossed her sword into the air, causing it to flip before she caught the hilt and, with a flick of her wrist, tore apart scores of the invaders, leaving them barely alive, just enough for them to suffer. It felt good to let loose for the first time in so long. If slaying some of the invaders happened to save the humans that they had been just about to attack, it wasn’t her business. She was, after all, a strict professional, and if the humans happened to be saved, it wasn’t as if anyone could prove she had intentionally saved them.

As the angel’s music got louder, the demon mused how she would never admit that the song seemed catchy.


	55. Hey Brother

Song: [Hey Brother](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UDz45y_C630&feature=youtu.be) by Avicii

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/38713016#workskin): [Welcome To The Jungle](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_ABFKsxVh94&feature=youtu.be)

 

Willow walked slowly towards her sibling as they stopped at a gas station.

“Hey brother,” she began, “What do you suppose we are?”

“What do you mean?” he asked in confusion.

“You, of all of us, are the one who has changed in the past,” she explained, “More importantly, you and I are both similar and different.”

“I suppose that we’re all the things that They make of us,” he replied, “We’re the ones that They can’t handle as well. Victoria is always busy with them, and Holly is everywhere and here at the same time. Us, though? I don’t know how to describe it, Wil. We’re not inevitable. We just happen, out of ignorance, malice, or just bad luck. Sure, we make our choices sometimes, but some of the things that happen to people are done by themselves or others.”

“What do you suppose will happen to us once we have the real finale?” she asked as a cat began trying to catch the birds to fill its stomach.

“I don’t really ever think about it,” he admitted as a fly rotted in midair, “Whatever happens, happens. I’m pretty sure that Victoria and Holly will be fine. Even angels and the other gods have wars, and even devils die. As for you and me, who knows? What matters more is going with what we’ve already got ahead of us and enjoy what we’ve got while we’ve got it.”

“That is why you enjoy humans, isn’t it?” she asked as she took a king-sized candy bar out of the bag in her hand and began to gnaw on it, as if the wrapper didn’t exist, “They die, but they make things in their short time here.”

“We could learn a thing or two from them,” he nodded, “They pour their hearts and souls into everything they do, and they create such fascinating things in their time. They don’t know when they’re going to go, and neither do we.”

Both of them watched at Holly and Sabrina at the car, exchanging gentle gazes and laughter as they refilled the car’s tank while Victoria was playing on her handheld console.

“That’s something that I’m somewhat fascinated with,” Willow noted, “Holly cares for her. She is mortal, and yet she was not willing to be parted from her, nor was Sabrina willing to be away from her.”

“That’s love for you,” he replied with a shrug as he ate a spoonful of yogurt, “Not that unbelievable, is it? It just is.”

“I suppose so…” she replied, watching the exchange as Holly took the nozzle out of the gas tank once it had finished, “I suppose that we cannot spend so much time among them without learning some things.”

“I personally think that humanity’s a bit infectious,” he said with a smirk, “But then, that’s just me. On the other hand, maybe  a gas station in the rebuilding of society isn’t the most ordinary place for philosophical discussions like this, little sister.”

“Perhaps not,” she replied, “Let’s return to the car.”

“If you want to talk about it later, let me know,” he replied, “I’m always willing to talk with you about this stuff, if you need to.”


	56. I Am Machine

Song: [I Am Machine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=flq30E6LI9E&feature=youtu.be) by Three Days Grace

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/38899562#workskin): [Bergentrückung](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ml0NOkuQqfk&feature=youtu.be)

 

It was quiet when they did it. Two of them, a boy and a girl, both with more ambition and talent and loyalty to one another above all else than was good for them. Pale green eyes watched carefully as he worked with the tiny gears and springs, readying the item for the experiment. She was an exceptional mage and engineer, but his hands were steadier, and it was for that reason that she let him do the small work for her. He was a musician and a skilled Ranger with keen eyes, and it was for this reason, as well as the friendship they shared all their lives, that he was her guard.

They were going to find out how to pierce the veil between worlds.

Once it was ready, he took the device in his hands and held it out for her to begin her enchantments. With a wave of her hands and a chant crafted specifically for this task, she wove magic into the device. When it began to vibrate under its own power, they knew that it was complete.

The item ticked, ready for its first test. And then it began to hum, the ticking growing louder and faster, until it let out a whine like a tea kettle. He tackled her to the ground to shield her body from the inevitable blast, only for the machine to suddenly stop.

It was then that the shadows seeped out of the device, before forming a black-clad woman, her face hidden by an opaque veil beyond description.

“You have made a grave mistake, children,” the woman’s beautiful voice said, seeming a strange mix of amused and disappointed as the room grew darker, “You should have never done this.”

“Who are you?” the boy asked.

“I am the shadows, themselves,” she said, “And you nearly forced your way into my realm, the realm of death and darkness, without my permission or my gift. This warrants punishment.”

“It was my idea,” the girl said, “Do not punish him. He merely did what I asked.”

“I take full responsibility for any crimes committed, O Great Lady of Shadows,” the boy said, positioning himself so that he would take the brunt of any attack, “Punish me in her stead.”

“This was a collaborative effort,” the Lady said, “And thus, you shall both be punished.”

With a flick of her wrist, shadows slid around the pair, grabbing each of them.

“You, girl, are a Mage, and fall to my younger brother’s command, so it is his edict that I follow with your punishment for violating his laws, as well. You shall be henceforth stripped of your ability to use magic for anything other than to heal. Separate from his punishment, I give the punishment of never experiencing my gift of mortality.”

A golden light gently illuminated the girl, causing the shadows to retract as she grew paler and her eyes were now shining emeralds. Once the light vanished, her own shadow blurred and slithered to the Lady, who continued with the punishments. “As for you, Ranger. You are one who knows of my ways, but you did not think of them even once. I take your form and your mortality. May you affect the world yet feel little effect, yourself.”

His shadow faded away, and with it his body, leaving nothing but what looked like empty clothes.

With that, she vanished, taking the shadows with her. Centuries passed, kingdoms came and went, but they continued to linger, unable to leave the world, unable to truly experience it as they had once done. They felt no pain, no cold, no heat. They could taste almost nothing, and their lives became dull and lifeless. In time, they became known simply as The Healer and The Servant, who frequented the nearby bar, The Green Dragon.

And then, there came the day that four girls came in with the intent to save the world, reigniting the spark in their lives.


	57. So Long, And Thanks For All The Fish

Song: [So Long and Thanks for All the Fish](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yowQ43L3FCU&feature=youtu.be) from A Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/39085156#workskin): [Thanks For The Memory](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VhD9e2SzytY&feature=youtu.be)

 

They were doing nothing of note as the world fell apart around them. They had been forgotten, their shrines abandoned, their followers gone. They were in disrepair and their wonders were ignored. It was finally time to say, “So long.”

They were gods, spirits, all manners of beings who were forgotten or abandoned by their followers, or perhaps their followers had simply died out, leaving no one to name them, no one to remember them. They did not rightly care. They did not have much to do and they did not have the ability to do much.

Starved of prayers, sacrifices, or whatever fed them, they were worn and tired. That was when the sound of seven keys unlocking resounded through the air, revealing that the Four had started it all up.

Peace at last was what many of them thought it to be. And then, suddenly, they felt as if everything that had starved them was being practically poured into them. They felt as if they were being given their fill, despite the lack of anyone to aid them.

And then, the most empty voice they had ever heard, a voice that sounded as if the speaker were devouring the words with no emotion, echoed through their minds.

“Come and see,” the rider of the black horse ordered, and they felt themselves compelled to follow. These forgotten gods, these spirits lost to time and war and cynicism, felt themselves eager to listen to her. The world was vast and legends never fully die. They could feel their wonders returning for this. Above them, other gods and the like were already flitting about.

And now, the kings and queens of others were returned, under the command of she of the boundless hunger.

The voice echoed in their heads as she continued, “Join us, lost ones. This was your world as well as that of the others. Do not let those who would turn the world to dust win. Ride with us. Let us feed off of their fears, their ambitions, all that they are. Let us cut them upon our teeth. Let us eat their hearts out.”

Despite the fact that she was the one that expressed no emotions outwardly, her speech felt impassioned. They found themselves ready to do battle, to rip through the enemy.

This was their world, their wonders were their own, and they would be damned before they let it fall, regardless of the state they had been left in. If they were to fade away, they would have this moment, at least.

“It is time to feast,” she said, “We will devour them all.”

At that, they felt themselves freed and began to fight. Then, the rider of the pale green motorcycle seemed to imprint herself in their minds before she simply said “Arise.” The dead arose wherever the Forgotten Ones were, their worshippers ready to follow them into battle, prayers and songs and stories passing through ethereal, rotted, and skeletal mouths. The battle was joined as Famine felt slight smile turn up the corners of her mouth almost imperceptibly as she glanced at the sandwich in her hand, which she had refrained from eating while reaching out to the Forgotten Ones. She was fond of tuna sandwiches, though she didn’t understand why John was chuckling at the sight. No doubt, it had something to do with either his beloved books or his beloved films and television.


	58. Spark Inside Us

Song: [Spark Inside Us](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R-yW9ws8ksU&feature=youtu.be) from The Princess and the Goblin

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/39287479#workskin): [The Last Unicorn](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qp8qevE-09s&feature=youtu.be)

 

There was a lantern in the forest, dead for years, blackened and unused for so long. There was a girl in the forest, as well, one who could not remember why she was there or why she was being chased by beasts that were hiding in the shadows of the trees. She was running in the faint gleam of moonlight that broke through the clouds, but she knew that the creatures would seek her out in due time. It was a quirk of chance or perhaps fate that she happened to stumble over the lantern. She checked it, hoping that it had a flint and iron, or even oil, but it was empty and it seemed unable to be opened by any contrivance.

And the beasts began to creep closer to her, stretching out in an effort to capture her.

The wind blew and she could have sworn that she heard the word “Sing” echo from nowhere.

She began to sing softly, unsure of what it would help until she suddenly noticed a faint glimmer within the lantern. It flickered to life, her words somehow bringing light to the lantern.

And so she sang, her song growing more and more confident and bold as she continued.

In her hand, the lantern grew brighter still, the spark turning to a flame that glowed with an otherworldly gleam. The beasts shrank back with soft hisses as the light shone brilliantly around her. They began to shriek as the flame became steadier, retreating into the dark before they fell silent. She, on the other hand, began to feel stronger as she continued to sing. The shadows cast by the lantern, however, began to dance to her music, swirling beautifully as the beasts pulled further back into the dark from whence they had come. Yet, she did not dare stop singing.

She did not know if the lantern would continue to burn if she stopped, and she did not wish to find out. The shadows swirled more and more until they coalesced into a human shape along the side of a nearby tree. A boy, one made of shadows, stood beside her with eyes like stars as she felt the lantern’s magic embracing her. The boy, for his part, bowed reverently before slowly picking up a cloak that looked as if it were made of the stars of the night sky from the ground and handing it to her. Her eyes widened as she slowly, lovingly, caressed the cloak, knowing it to be her own. Throwing it over her shoulders, the Lady of the Moonlight turned towards the now cloudless night sky and created her staff of moonlight. She banished the beasts to their caves with a single flash of light. Smiling, she walked back to the boy made of shadows and rested her hand upon the shadowed shoulder.

“Arise,” she said, holding his lantern out to him, which he dutifully took, holding it aloft as a sword of shadows appeared in his hand, “Let us travel once more, old friend. There is evil about. We shall fight it once more.”


	59. Walking In A Winter Wonderland

Song: [Walking in a Winter Wonderland](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lkFP0VwpPRY&feature=youtu.be) performed by Dean Martin

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/39492850#workskin): [The Wassail Song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7XO5Zs-qlx4&feature=youtu.be)

 

She awoke to the sight of the town. It was lovely, with its coppery leaves and the harvest that had just been collected and tucked away in houses and storerooms. She was content with the autumn. And then, she heard humming carried on the wind, which carried a chill with it. She rolled her eyes as the bluebirds grew noticeably unsettled, flying away as if they were being ordered to do so. It was happening again.

“Must you?” she asked flatly.

The cold wind seemed to pick up speed, dancing merrily at her words, but she stood as still as stone and her expression remained unchanged.

“The town has just now gotten the harvest collected,” she noted, “And now you decide to show up?”

A single snowflake danced in the corner of her eyes as the moon was slowly covered by clouds.

“Are you even going to bother to talk?” she pressed, her voice as firm as a brick wall.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” he asked from behind her, causing her to turn to see him bedecked in his warm-looking clothes, his head obstructed by the scarf and hat as he held out a gloved hand that was clearly far from warm to the touch, “It’ll be a wonderland.”

“Or a mess,” she replied, taking the extended hand.

“I’ve wonderful plans, my love,” he said, “It will be a beautiful blanket of white as the sleigh bells sing out their jingling chorus. I’ll make it shine like starlight in the night and like precious gems when there is sunlight.”

“Must you?” she pressed, “The harvest has just been collected, and the animals have just started getting their rest.”

“I must,” he replied, “And you know that well. The winter has arrived.”

He tapped the tip of her nose with the index finger of his free hand, causing her to rub it to get the warmth back as the snowflakes began to dance their way to the ground, artfully laying down upon the earth in their layers, building up around them as the faint music of the winter began to sing. With that, they began to dance, making merry as they passed through the currently empty streets of the town. “When the meadow is covered, we can build a snowman,” he said, “It will be great fun!”

The town grew colder and the chimneys began to release smoke from their hearts towards the heavens. The snow that had settled on windowpanes glistened, looking like miniature stars as they continued their dance.

“My people are ready,” she said gently, “and my stones and trees will look lovely bedecked in your snow.”

“Of course they are ready,” he replied, kissing her hand on the knuckles, “They are yours. As am I.”

“I know,” she replied, “And many of the children dream of the fun they will have in your winter wonderland. They have such sweet plans. They are eagerly awaiting the next day.”

“And you?” the weather spirit asked the town’s soul.

“I look forward to enjoying our time together, my dear,” she replied, “But for now, let us just walk and watch your snow fall upon my town.”

“Of course, my love,” he replied, letting her lead him through her town while the snow danced through the air around them.


	60. Christmas Time Is Here

Song: [Christmas Time Is Here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SvK3jEXJFdg) from A Charlie Brown Christmas (1965)

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/39786408): [It's Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fKDk0kgUye8&feature=youtu.be)

 

He smiled as the snow fell gently through the air. It was time. The carols echoed as the world was turned to a beautiful, snow-covered landscape. It was Christmas time, and good cheer was visible all around. He let out a light, contented sigh before he left the park he had been resting at.

It was time to get to work. After the end had come, it had fallen to him to protect the people. The others were busy fighting against the invaders, but his was the power of joy and generosity. He had taken the survivors and moved them to his kingdom, where they would be kept safe. The invaders could not find his kingdom. Not all of them believed in him, but that mattered little to him. He was a jolly old spirit, and he would be damned if he didn’t do all that he could to help others.

Now that those he had already saved were relaxed and enjoying the company of his elves, he nodded lightly to himself and mounted his sleigh. It was time to get to work. His sleigh bells began to jingle as he took off to the sky, ready for his job. There were others still out there, and he would save them, and aid them if they did not seek to be brought to the safety of his kingdom in the north.

Up above rooftops, his coursers flew. They had their job to do, as well. He gathered his magic and his sled flew through the air with them.

He was old, much older than he looked, and he looked like a right old elf as it was, despite his liveliness and his speed. He called each by name as they rode, until they got to their first stop.

It was not snowing where they were. He slid down the chimney, only to see several guns aimed at him, which were raised when they saw him.

“The boy…” the leader of this human encampment said, gesturing at the child lying on a bed, his face pale and sickly, “We are trying our best, but he’s sick. Please. Help him if you can.”

He smiled at the group before him, before tapping the side of his nose, as if he were telling them a great secret before he ran his hand along the boy’s forehead, leaving the child looking as if he had never been ill at all.

“Would you like me to take you all away from here?” he asked gently, “I could bring you to my kingdom in the north.”

“Will the children be safe there?” the leader asked.

“You all will be safe,” he replied.

“We can’t go,” the leader said tiredly, “We have to fight. We have to defend our home and the people we love. But the children… They could get away from this, if you  speak the truth.”

“I speak truly,” he said, “And unto you, I give this gift…”

With a wink of his eye, he gestured to the makeshift Christmas tree that the children had drawn on the wall of their hideout, where an array of weapons, medicines, and food sat.

“Take the children to safety,” the leader said, “Please.”

“It shall be done,” he promised. Using his magic, he sent the sleeping children to his kingdom, “I shall return with them, when this is all done. Your struggles are nearly over.”

It was later that he met with the Witness of the Four.

“I didn’t think you were real,” the Witness noted.

“Many people don’t, young Sabrina,” he said with a chuckle, “But I am as real as hope, and I am here bearing gifts. For all that is terrible, Christmas is real, and the faith in the thought of human kindness, the nature of mankind to band together for the sake of helping one another is real, as well. So, yes, young Sabrina, I am real, and I am here to help, always.”

With that, he reached into his bag and pulled out a shepherd’s crook, handing it to her as he said, “And this is your gift. You shall understand, in time. Sadly, I do have work to get to. Farewell.”

With that, he leapt onto his sleigh and called, “On, Dasher! On Dancer! On Prancer and Vixen! On Comet and Cupid, Donder and Blitzen! To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall, now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”

“Holly!” she shouted to Death, who was inside., “Come and see this! It’s a Christmas miracle!”


	61. Silent Night

Song: [Silent Night (karaoke)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0AuSXvutXsE) by isisip

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/40289813): [Carol of the Bells (METAL COVER)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3mBoBhNgz2c&feature=youtu.be)

 

The Cloud Nine Theater was quiet that night. The instruments had fallen silent and the Angel was not performing her aimless dance. Instead, she and Henry were having a nice walk through the theater’s halls looking over the newly reformed walls and seats with a soft joy at its repairs.

“I missed this,” the Angel said after a moment, “All of it. Look at this place. It’s in the original colors and everything.”

“It’s magic,” Henry replied with a slight smile, “But you’re right. It’s nice to see the old place back to what it should be.”

“We’re back,” she said with a light laugh, “Can you really believe we’re back?”

“I’m more surprised that you were still dancing,” he confessed, “You’re a miracle, you know?”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” she replied, before they stopped at the door of the theater, itself.

“This is the part I’ve been looking forward to the most,” he confessed, “Opening these doors and seeing the stage set, the seats perfect, and everything the way it should be.”

With that, they both pushed open the doors, revealing the theater as it had once looked, a dream within a dream, all brought to life by magic and wonder. In the center of the stage, there sat a Christmas tree, decorated with beautiful ornaments that sparkled in the stage lights.

Beside him, the Angel placed her hands over her porcelain mouth at the sight of the stage as it should be.

“May I?” she asked as they moved towards the stage.

“Obviously,” he replied, leading her to the stairs on the side of the stage.

Once they were onstage, he walked up to the pit and leaned over it as he said, “Maestro? The song, if you would be so kind.”

As he walked off the stage, taking a seat in the front row, a conductor’s baton rose in the pit, tapping the podium before the instruments within took their cue and began to play a familiar carol.

The Angel began to move to the music, flowing across the stage in an elegant dance perfectly in time with the music. And the music continued.

She smiled at that and began to sing the words to the song, a gentle tune as she moved with graceful precision. The theater was still and the spotlight shone upon her even as the rest of the theater dimmed, until she was all that was visible. She smiled at where Henry was sitting as she got back into the swing of things. It had been too long since she had danced at her best, and this slow, gentle song was as welcome to her as she was to the stage.

It was her world, where she was the focus, even if the audience was currently just the one soul. They were together, they were whole, and the theater was rebuilt. Her mind turned towards the future for a short time as she continued her dance. Someday this place would be the talk of the town, and the theater would be fully alive, with full seats and sold-out tickets.

For the moment, however, this was all she needed. Her stage, her band, her dance, and Henry, who was the piece that had been missing for so long that she had almost begun to think that he would never return. The theater was calm, and it was Christmas Eve. She was dancing, and it was all running.

When the music reached its end and the theater lights went up, she saw Henry beaming at her, a modern camera on a podium beside him as he hit a button to stop filming.

“I thought that we could bring the audiences in if we could just get the people to see you,” he said with a smile, “So, I decided to broadcast your dance live. Look at this…”

She looked at the website he had apparently uploaded the video to, only to see that her performance had already gotten viewers in the thousands range. She smiled at the numbers that showed that the people did love them, but even more, she smiled at the sensation of the theater coming further back to life, with the doors opening for them as they began to walk out of the theater and into the lobby.

“Merry Christmas, Angel,” Henry smiled, wrapping her in a one-armed hug. She returned the smile and the hug. They were official back in business. The future was looking bright.


	62. Crystallize

Song: [Crystallize](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aHjpOzsQ9YI&feature=youtu.be) by Lindsay Sterling

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/40534295): [My Eyes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B0FIzeiR-hw&feature=youtu.be)

 

She was content as she walked through the snow. Well, perhaps content was not the right word. By her nature, she was never content, much like how her eldest sister was everywhere, her other sister reveled in conflict, and her brother let things simply spread from where they were. She was pleased by the snow, however. Snow was beautiful, to her. The snow kept things from growing, and that led to hunger. The frozen wastelands she visited were her domain, in that sense. Hunger was where there was no food.

But, beyond the starvation and despair that fed her as well as any meal could, the snow was beautiful and clean in a way that she was not. Black was her color, the color of her mount, the color of her clothes, and the color of her eyes. She was the coal that burned eternally, she was the dead of night. But before her was the beauty of the snow. And deep within was her quarry. She had tracked them, smiling to herself as she did so, occasionally picking off stragglers. She was a connoisseur and she learned to improve flavors, even that of their tough, leathery flesh. There was an encampment of the invaders not far from where she was. She smiled as she thought of their current location. It was just the right spot. She had stolen food from them, as well as those who had fallen behind. Pitiful rations made up their stocks of food, and she delighted in the act of depriving them even that much, to the point that they were all suffering from hunger. This, she knew because, regardless of the nature of these creatures, starvation was something she fed off of, and they provided her with a feast as time went on.

She made her horse stay far from there before she silently crept towards the one at their makeshift guard post, the one that was all alone, waiting for any sign of trouble Then, she approached from beyond its line of sight and raised her scales, before she got close enough to whisper to it, “A measure of wheat for a penny, and three measures of barley for a penny; and see thou hurt not the oil and the wine.”

She saw the hunger in its eyes as she faded away from corporeality. She knew what it would do, soon enough. And then, it began.

She waved her hands like a conductor from her invisible vantage point, orchestrating its bloody rampage as the savagery and hunger overtook its nature. The moment it fed upon the first of its kinsmen, it was damned. It grew larger, its features becoming more monstrous as it tore its way through those it had been guarding moment prior.

And she continued to conduct.

She wished the others could come and see what she had created. She wished that they could witness this work of art that she had created. When the Wendigo had finished destroying its companions, she appeared and fed it greater and greater hungers until the cursed creature began to digest itself in its ravenous agony. She was particular proud of this one. Even as its desire to feed caused it to gnaw upon its own flesh to no avail, the hunger making it weaker and weaker, she watched it continue to consume itself from the inside out. When it finally stopped moving, the digestive system was practically reduced to a liquid as its own digestive enzymes began to consume the body, itself, to no avail. It was in this state that she left it.

Idly, she wondered what it would taste like in this state before deciding that she didn’t rightly care. It would doubtlessly taste like the others of its kind, and she had already helped herself to those. Instead, she lingered, feasting upon its agonizing hunger in the contented but not contented way that she feasted upon everything else. When it finally died, a decayed husk that burned where it had digested itself, she lit a fire and tossed the flesh upon it. She supposed that there was no point in letting its meat go to waste.

She had been disappointed to find her assumption was correct. It tasted boringly like the rest of its fellow invaders.

Without much concern, she took out a bag of marshmallows and a stick. Even if the meat was boring, there was no sense in wasting a good fire.


	63. Friends on the Other Side

Song: [_Friends on the Other Side (Disney’s Princess and the Frog) Metal Cover_](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DZNFLqNFp2qU%26feature%3Dyoutu.be&t=Y2QzZmZmYzBiOWE0YzYyODQ1MTkyOWJmNjA4YmY5NTI2YjYwYWZmMSxyUXFLTEJJVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AdQVg7WQokQ70TRl2U0G3Vw&p=https%3A%2F%2Flogo-comics.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F181794143229%2Fthe-songs-and-stories&m=0) by Jonathan Young and AHMusic

[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/40780955): [Clockworks](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NU3aCNQAqwc&feature=youtu.be)

 

“Are you skilled with magic?” the distinctly plain young woman asked at the door.

The demon-contractor looked at her with contempt before he said, “I am.”

“Are you really?” she pressed.

“Little girl, I am a channeler of dark powers. I have managed to level cities and summon legions of nightmares. I have friends in the Underworld that could attest to my skills.”

“Perfect!” she smiled, “Can you show me?”

“Really?” he scoffed, “Showing a child magic as if the art was merely parlor tricks?”

“Your door had an inverted Ward of Divinity, with a personal flourish beneath it to illustrate the types of demons with whom you’ve had a contract,” she said, “I want to know what you can do.”

“Am I to be impressed that you know the barest hint of the art?” he returned, opening the door to let her in, “But very well. Have a seat.”

“Thank you,” she smiled, “Can you read futures?”

“I can change futures,” he sneered, “You pitiful child.”

“Tell you what,” she replied, “I’ll show you some magic, then you’ll show me some. Do we have a deal?”

He would have turned the child down, but his pride compelled him to show this cocky girl what a true practitioner could do.

“Very well.”

Smiling, she held out her hands showing them empty before she reached into thin air and pulled out a handbell of the sort used to summon servants. It was clear that it was enchanted in some way, though he was not quite sure on how. In response, he summoned a minor imp, something about the size of the bell, which stood still and breathed heavily, as was common for its ik.

“Impressive,” she said, revealing her ignorance, “Let me try to do one better…”

She pressed her hands together and between them, several gold coins materialized.

In response, he summoned a hellhound to illustrate how pathetic such parlor tricks were. The hound sat still, awaiting his command.

“I would like to ask a question,” she said suddenly, “What do you need to do to gain the level of power you have?”

“Nothing that an uninitiated fool like yourself would ever have the will to do.”

“I see,” she sad with a smile, her eyes hidden in the shadows as she dismissed the coins and the bell, while he did the same to the hellhound and the imp, “Would you like to see one more trick?”

“If I must,” he sighed, wanting the child to leave so that he could get back to the human sacrifice in the basement of his shop.

She reached into thin air and pulled out a pack of cards, “I’ll tell you a story.”

She flipped one card, which revealed the exact imp that he had summoned, “You have killed several people in your bid for power, Alvin Bloodbriar.” She flipped a card revealing the hellhound, “You have another victim, alive, tied up in your basement for the sake of sacrificing her.” She flipped a third card, revealing his most powerful summon. “You will die soon enough.”

“We’ll see about that,” he snarled, insulted by this girl’s belief that she could best him. With that, he sliced his palm with a knife and wordlessly summoned the demon Maltrestren.

“Cute,” she replied as the Beast of A Thousand Torments formed before her, before she spoke a single word that filled him with dread, “Maltrestren.”

To his horror, after she had said the secret true name of the beast, she smiled at him and said, “Maltrestren, this human holds your name and your contract as a result. I can free you of his control if you simply make a bargain with me.”

He tried to shout an order at the demon, only to find his voice was gone.

“What is your bargain, Fair One?” the Beast that had derived such joy in the suffering of mortals asked, causing Alvin’s eyes to widen at just the manner of being he had been treating like a foolish child.

“If you do not affect my world upon his death,” she said, extending her hand, “I shall release you from his hold by his death. If either of us default upon this bargain, the one who defaults will surrender their magic and life to the other.”

“That is acceptable,” the Beast replied, shaking her hand to make the bargain. When the Beast let go, she stabbed Alvin through the eye with a long dagger, killing him instantly.

It was at that moment that Maltrestren suddenly clutched at where its black heart resided.

“What treachery is this?!” the beast demanded.

“No treachery,” she replied, “Your very presence here affects the world. You remained here, so your life and your magic are mine, as is the case with the one from whom I gained my powers.”

So saying, as the Beast crumbled to dust, the Clever Girl made her way out the door. Her beloved and her friends were all waiting at the inn. She didn’t see any reason to trouble them with a petty matter like this.

It was just business.


	64. Hello, My Baby

**Song:[ _Hello, My Baby_](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DzD3XS4w8YkE&t=YTVhMTcyNDEwN2Q3Y2FkYWM2MzZhMDgzMzNiZTQ5MGNjMzViMzk3MSxyUXFLTEJJVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AdQVg7WQokQ70TRl2U0G3Vw&p=https%3A%2F%2Flogo-comics.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F181996482259%2Fthe-songs-and-stories&m=0) by The Chordettes**

**[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/40996049): [I'm A Member of the Midnight Crew](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zjhbLDJzXAs&feature=youtu.be)  
**

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, for your viewing entertainment, presenting the one, the only, The Angel of Cloud Nine!”

Henry was nowhere to be seen by the audience. He looked too young in this day and age to be running the theater, so he was relegated to the off-stage office, where he announced shows from the microphone into the speakers.

The Angel bowed to the audience in her mechanically precise way before she began to dance and sing.

She was a one-angel act, given that she was built to be able to harmonize with herself alongside her dance. The song was a classic, one that was one of many that had rung through the theater countless times in the past. It was a beloved piece back when the Cloud Nine had first been opened. Now, though, the crowd seemed to be almost unenthused. She was a marvel, a singing doll that could dance and smile, but they were unimpressed. Some were fascinated, but the crowd, as a whole, seemed to not be interested in her, writing her off as some sort of novelty or perhaps someone wearing a gimmicky costume. Some were even paying attention to their mobile phones more than they were to her. She did not know which it was that they felt, but it was obvious that she was losing them. So, she knew she had to try something new, or else they’d be left alone.

She did a flip to get to the Pit and smiled before nodding to the conductor’s spot, causing the conductor’s wand to rise.

“And tell me you’re my own!” she said, before the instruments began to play a livelier tune, allowing her to pick up her pace as she began to spin and kick, moving about with her signature porcelain smile as the band picked up.

She grinned and winked a painted eye at the audience as she began to move more fluidly, taking the microphone from the stand as she did so, incorporating it to her dance with a grin, causing them to all look up at her.

She had them again. She nodded to the door to the office, which the door took as its cue to open.

As the band played a swinging version of her tune to keep the audience entertained, she danced to the offstage office and grabbed Henry, dragging him to behind the curtain before she skipped onto the stage and began to dance once more.

“Got a little baby, but, he’s out of sight,” she continued, “I talk to him across the telephone.” She skipped up to where he was standing, “I never see my honey, but he’s mine, alright, so take my tip and leave this guy alone!” she dragged him onto the stage, silently cueing him to keep still as she began to sing and dance around him. Fortunately, he was already bewildered enough to not move on his own, making it much easier for her to continue her display as the audience laughed at their antics.

“If you refuse me, honey you’ll lose me,” she grinned, selling the act to the audience as she held her hand out for him to take. After a while, she managed to get him to take her hand, and she dragged him into a dance, his bewildered expression not leaving his face as she led.

The audience cheered and laughed, and she could see phones being lowered to see or raised to record what was going on as she danced and sang, switching things up as the band played on. She had them. The conductor slowed the tune back down as she continued to lead him in the dance, while he slowly began to join in, making the whole thing look like a fully-planned act.

“Baby, my heart’s on fire!” she said as she had him twirl her, “If you refuse me, honey, you’ll lose me. Then you’ll be all alone! Oh, baby, telephone, and tell me I’m your own!” She spun out on that note before spinning in as she sang, “Oh, tell me I’m your own!”

She got him to dip her, followed by a stage kiss and a bow to the audience as the conductor’s baton lowered, signaling that the song was done.

The audience cheered and whistled, and roses were even thrown to the stage as they bowed and the instruments returned to where they had been resting. Henry caught one and handed it to The Angel with a dramatic bow and flourish, at which point she smiled and took it. They took another bow before the curtain closed. The Cloud Nine was now properly back in business.


	65. Shut Up and Dance

**Song:[ _Shut Up and Dance With Me_](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DmjdIJ5ZSpSk&t=YzljZTA4OTVhNzJhNzExNTI0ODA1YjIwNGMyZmNkM2I5M2NiYTAyYixyUXFLTEJJVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AdQVg7WQokQ70TRl2U0G3Vw&p=https%3A%2F%2Flogo-comics.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F182182226544%2Fthe-songs-and-stories&m=0) by Walk The Moon**

**[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/41203697): [Judgement](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VqdvMqGWX3A&feature=youtu.be)  
**

 

He walked on, not sure where he was going, if he were being honest. He was simply pulled onward and he just kept going. It was just what he did. Then, he saw it. A flicker of… A flicker of…

He had no idea, but he felt it deep in his chest and began to follow the sensation where it pulled him. The streets were crowded, but only  as much as city streets tended to be crowded as it was. He had no idea what it was that was moving him, but he continued onward without looking back. His eyes searched for it, whatever it was, and he continued. He continued to follow the sensation as he tried to figure out what it was that he had seen. A flicker…

But whatever it was, he wasn’t able to piece it together. He continued to walk. He would find it, whatever it was that pulled on his heart. The building was a dark, imposing building, and he knew deep within himself that, regardless of what was in there, he was going to enter. The imposing doorman seemed to ignore him as he passed, as if the man thought that he was supposed to be there. It was then that he saw the others in there. All dangerous-looking, all armed, and all with some strange sense of something other to them as they stood in the faded light of the room. He blinked and continued to follow the pull, until he neared what appeared to be a ring of some sort, with the others standing there, as if waiting for something to happen. And then, suddenly, he felt a tight grip on his arm that felt right, somehow, “Dance with me,” she said, swinging him into the ring before entering after him.

She drew a pair of long gleaming silver knives and began to flow through the ring to the cheers of the crowd as she caused him to have to dodge. Somehow, he realized that she was too good for his clumsy dodging.

“You’re holding back,” he noted.

“Shut up and dance,” she said, causing something deep within him to stir. Whatever it was, it told him that this was destiny.

He continued to dodge, her strikes quickening as he moved rapidly to dodge, a tune blaring in his the back of his mind as the blood rushed through him, a song that grew louder and louder as if it were trying to burst out of him. Something was familiar about this. He did not know what it was, but he knew that it was important.

He dodged each blow, the song now pounding against the walls of his skull until he suddenly reached into his own chest and drew a pair of silver revolvers and fired two rounds, each caught by her blades and used to strike down two of the observers. The world stood still in that moment.

He remembered.

He was her other half, and she was his other half.

This had been destiny, a destiny that had waited long enough for them to reincarnate and begin again. They had been champions, a pair of heroes dedicated to protecting the world from supernatural threats. By her blades and the blooming grin on her face, she remembered first, which did not surprise him. She was always very clever.

It was time. Suddenly, the denizens were much more recognizable. Demons and fiends that delighted in the torment of mankind. He doubted that they even knew just who the two of them were. That thought amused him.

“It’s good to remember you again,” he said.

“We can go over the pleasantries later,” she replied as the evil beings realized, or at least were somewhat beginning to realize just who were there before them. “Let’s dance.”

And so, they began to dance with one another, moving gracefully through the enemies as they used their weapons, the essence of who they were, in a terpsichorean display as they dispatched enemies one by one. This was who they were and they could have lived countless lives without ever forgetting the moves to their dances once they were together and whole once more. They smiled at one another adoringly each time their eyes met.

They continued in this manner until the monsters were all deceased, at which point, they each offered the other a bow, their dance done, for the time being, at least.


	66. Losing My Life

**Song:[ _Losing My Life_](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D9zmizj57PFQ&t=ZDI3YjQzYjRmNGJkOTUyNmYyNzMxOGRiMDRmYzE2NDY3MTA2NTBiNixyUXFLTEJJVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AdQVg7WQokQ70TRl2U0G3Vw&p=https%3A%2F%2Flogo-comics.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F182364251694%2Fthe-songs-and-stories&m=0) by Falling In Reverse**

**[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/41413700): [He's a Pirate (Pirate's of the Caribbean Theme) cover](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2EXysr5NRiE&feature=youtu.be)  
**

 

The dungeon was silent. The blond figure stared blankly from where she was shackled to the wall, not a single sign of life in her silver eyes as she stood like an empty shell. The prisoner had even begun to accumulate a layer of dust over her skin and clothes as she did so. She had been an adventurer, albeit an odd one who never seemed to actually want to be adventuring, but, upon her capture by the villain who rule these lands, a sorcerer with a good deal of knowledge of dark rituals, she simply stood there, stock still, with nothing able to harm or awaken her.

She simply remained in that one place., gathering dust in the dark until one of the guards passed by with his silver-plated lantern gleaming.

And then, suddenly, with a sound like shattering glass, her eyes suddenly changed to look alive, with a noticeable gleam of intelligence visible within. She examined the shackles, then slammed her arm into the wall until the arm broke off at the wrist, a bright light visible within the broken segment as she slid her arm out of the manacle, before kicking the hand up to her other hand, at which point, she reattached the hand and then removed the rest of her bindings with ease. She glared at the bars of the cell before she simply grinned to herself. First, there was one of her, then, in a flash, there were two of her. Then three. When she’d developed a reasonable number, she hid before calling out to the guards for help.

Shocked by a voice actually coming from that cell, they rushed over and quickly unlocked the door to handle the situation. The copies began to fight amongst themselves as she slipped past the now-distracted guards, swiping their keys as she passed. Once she had done so, she slammed the bars shut and locked it, tossing the keys into a dark corner of the dungeon before giving them a wave.

“I-I-I’m sorry I have to le-le-le-le-leave,” she said, “But justice must be done and I have a debt-debt-debt to pay.” Dusting herself off, she headed towards an equally dusty bow and quiver loaded with arrows. She had a task to complete.

The rest of the guards were not happy to see her free and wandering through the castle, which was made clear as several knight with their weapons raised encircled her.

“Leave n-n-now and you will be spared,” she said, “If you wish to fight, I would recommend against it.”

The lord’s soldiers laughed scathingly before she decided to show them why they would do well to listen to her. Grabbing an arrow without getting the bow out, yet, she threw it at the one that was the closest and still approaching, the arrow flying straight and true. The sun reflected off the blade as she held out her arms in a challenging gesture for the teams of knights who promptly began to try to defeat her with spears and swords, which she dodged easily with little effort. Even if this wasn’t her original form, she knew how to fight from the countless battles. It was at that moment, however, that she suddenly realized that the sounds of battle were not only coming from her as she continued her attack.

A flash of silvery white danced along the battlefield, tearing through the knights as if they were nothing. It was as if it were a blade made of nothing but light tearing down the wicked.

Playing cards began to fly, before spinning in a circle in the midst of a group of knights, forming a girl who suddenly steered the cards with magic, countless spells burning and shocking and cutting with a precision that not even some of the greatest spellcasters she’d fought in the past could have copied.

A plain girl grinned and waved her hands to create spikes on the ground that tore through more while a girl with no color save for glowing green eyes watched with a dull expression and a cloak wielding a sword tore through the knights as well.

Finally, there was a thing in the shape of a girl, but the reflection turned into an adventure could see twisting shapes made of shadows and blood that seeped out from every wound and seemed to shift to keep her alive with every attempt the enemy made to take her down. And then, suddenly, the sorcerer was there. As he readied to fight the entity shaped like a girl, the reflection drew her bow and fired, killing him where he stood.

It seemed that she might have found traveling companions.


	67. Losing My Mind

**Song:[ _Losing My Mind_](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3Dn5TpNmS4OX0&t=N2M0ODU2Y2I2Yzk2OWFhY2FjOGI3OTUxNzE1N2Q4MjM1MjgzMTFkYSxyUXFLTEJJVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AdQVg7WQokQ70TRl2U0G3Vw&p=https%3A%2F%2Flogo-comics.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F182543171609%2Fthe-songs-and-stories&m=0) by Mystery Skulls**

**[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/41632727): [Airship Pirates](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L2W7r_aNxrg&feature=youtu.be)  
**

 

It was an aspect of her. That was what the Clever Girl thought of it. Her love was never one to stop fighting for good. It was within the soul she had seen time and time again over the millennia she had experienced. She would never stop the battle until evil was eradicated.

It was an admirable trait, to be sure, but she did not fully approve of it, were she to be honest. The Young Miss, as she was known, was the sort who did not do well with others, and, were she left to her own devices, the Clever Girl had no doubt that she would eventually just completely forget that there was anything to life other than the oceans of blood she swam through when she fought against those that were truly evil.

That was the greatest fear to her. The fear that she would lose her self to her work, that she would simply lose the mind that she adored and become a thing of justice that did not feel anything other than a burning desire to have justice satisfied. She feared that her love would simply be lost to her, not due to death, but to the loss of her humanity.

The last quest had been an odd one, and while it had been good to get a new companion, the figure in question seemed to be wary of the Young Miss. The Clever Girl did not mind her too much, but she did, to an extent, understand the trepidation that the strange mirror spirit, but she supposed that it didn’t matter much in the long run, as long as she fought alongside them. No, the true strangeness was just how seamless her beloved’s use of the gauntlet’s power allowed her to even use the soul magic in such creative ways. But there was a dispassionate look to her eyes as she did it all. There was no giddiness or fascination. It was simply a thing that she did. The Clever Girl was concerned by this lack of interest. Her love being disinterested could potentially mean that the world was trying to be cruel and take her away from her in a much more insidious way, this time.

So the Clever Girl had, as was natural to her, become a grounding influence for her love, an emotional anchor that kept her sane.

“Rest, my love,” she said gently to her, “the Lady Knight stands guard. You need your rest.”

The Young Miss raised an eyebrow skeptically.

“You know what I mean,” she replied flatly, before gently continuing. “Let yourself get some sleep. While the magic of your gauntlet heals you of your fatigue and damage, you need to rest to make sure that you do not forget. No matter what else there is, you are a person, and I cannot lose you again. I have lost you too many times. Please, for my sake, get some sleep.”

The Young Miss slowly, deliberately, nodded in response, unwilling to deny her this request.

The Clever Girl let out a breath that she hadn’t even realized she had been holding onto until she had received that response, but she smiled. A little rest would help her beloved recuperate in body and spirit. She would not let her be lost once again, not now that they were able to stay with one another after so long.

She would always be there to remind the leader of this adventure of herself, for as long as the Young Miss would need the Clever Girl.


	68. Every Time We Touch

**Song:[ _Every Time We Touch (Cascada) POP PUNK COVER_](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D_VmsK2x9Y4Q&t=YWM3NjEwYzZhMTA5YjA2MzEyZWRkOTRiNjFiM2JhMmYyMjU4ZTQ3ZixyUXFLTEJJVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AdQVg7WQokQ70TRl2U0G3Vw&p=https%3A%2F%2Flogo-comics.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F182726458144%2Fthe-songs-and-stories&m=0) by Jonathan Young**

**[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/41849501): [Angel With A Shotgun](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rQKMLmXc0xo&feature=youtu.be)  
**

 

It was a common enough occurrence, as far as she could tell. The shoulders of two people accidental brushing against one another because there was no room on the sidewalk they were walking upon, yet the sensation was different, yet familiar. He seemed to feel it too.

What was it?

She needed the answer.

She felt no certainty about it, but it was familiar, as if she had felt it before. She began to follow him discreetly.

How did she know him?

She needed the answer.

And then, there was a burst of Dark Energy.

She glanced to where it was and realized that it was another set of the Dark One’s servants, led by one of his more powerful champions. Her curiosity could not be sated, it seemed. That was all she knew for certain.

She ducked down an empty alleyway to transform. With the swirl of several packs worth of cards, her hoodie, t-shirt and jeans were replaced with a stylish red dress shirt, black vest, and black slacks while the cards vanished up her sleeves and a mask covered the top half of her face. Miss Fortune was ready for battle.

She made her way to the battlefield quickly before grinning at the sight of her partner arriving at the same time.

“Mr. Magician,” she greeted cheerily, the Queen of Hearts orbiting her head as she gave a two-fingered salute with a black-gloved hand, “Enchanting, as always.”

“Always nice to have the deck stacked in my favor, Miss Fortune,” the white-clad figure in the similar mask replied, “Shall we?”

They had been at this for over a year, with their enemy from the land beyond the veil having tried time and again to destroy the world. They had beaten his forces back each time and this was no exception.

The minions were easily dealt with, as always, with enchanted playing cards defeating teams of them while various ridiculous tricks were used on the others.

“Now you see me…” Mr. Magician said, raising a sheet that he pulled out of nowhere as two charged at him before he rapidly spun around, covering himself just as their swords plunged into where he had been standing, “And now you don’t.”

The blades passed through empty cloth, which turned into a flock of doves just as the blades continued and both minions were left with the other’s blade plunged into them, even as Magician continued to fight the remaining .

Miss Fortune, meanwhile, was battling the boss, a powerful magical being, whose every attack was repelled by the Jokers and the Queens of her deck, her cards getting in good hits as she fought.

“You cannot hope to defeat me!” the Champion sneered with each swipe of clawed hands, “I am the greatest of the Dark One’s servants!” With that, he breathed out a stream of fire, burning several of her cards before swiping into the hole he had made in her defenses.

It was at that moment that a white top hat practically materialized around his hand, causing him to pull back, revealing a stuffed rabbit even as Magician plucked the out of the air.

“Sorry for stealing your thunder,” he said, a smile on his face as she let more cards fly, putting the Champion on the back foot, “I just couldn’t miss the opportunity. Shall we?”

“I think it’s for the best,” she replied as he held out his hat to her, allowing her to draw her sword made of light. In a matter of seconds, it was over.

“Absolutely stupendous, as always,” he praised, before kissing her hand as was their usual habit.

They both paused at the sensation.

She unfroze first, offering him a slight smirk.

Her curiosity was sated after all, it seemed.


	69. Truly Madly Deeply

**Song:[ _Truly Madly Deeply_](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DWQnAxOQxQIU&t=ZDEzYzNiY2Q5NTE1YjVkZDAxYzc1NzMwY2U1MGFlMGY1MTRmMDkwZSxyUXFLTEJJVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AdQVg7WQokQ70TRl2U0G3Vw&p=https%3A%2F%2Flogo-comics.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F182884494669%2Fthe-songs-and-stories&m=0) by Savage Garden**

**[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/42081617): [Boop](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JsValLyKX_E&feature=youtu.be)  
**

 

He smiled gently as he knocked on the window. It was night. The stars shone brightly and it was time once again. She opened the window and he entered without being seen, blending into the shadows of the room despite the starlight and the moonlight. All that could be seen were shining eyes in the dark.

“You came back,” she smiled in his direction.

“I always do,” he said, “And I will for as long as you will have me.”

“Will you finally show me your face?” she asked.

“No.”

“Will you come out of the shadows?”

“No.”

“Shall we play, then?” she asked.

“If you would like,” he answered.

At that, she took out a simple board game and placed it on the table near that dark corner of the room.

“I don’t know why you insist on being in the dark, my love,” she said, “Surely it is colder there than it would be beside me.”

“It is better this way,” was the reply, “I’m not a welcome guest in most places, when I am seen.”

“And yet, here you are, seated in my room, where I have invited you to play a game with me,” she replied.

“I always sit in the dark when I visit,” he replied, “Because I don’t belong.”

“Nonsense,” she replied, “I welcomed you into my room. Therefore, you belong here when you are here, my love.”

“You have called me that since we were younger,” he remarked as they began the game, “and I keep telling you that you should love someone better.”

“I don’t know anyone better,” she replied, “I know you, and I have yet to find someone as willing to chat as you are.”

“You’re too kind,” he responded, “I’m not worthy of your affections. You are a wonder far beyond me. You deserve a better soul to give such affections to.”

“I chose you,” she stated, “And you are the only one I want. Do you not care for me?”

“You are devious,” he noted, “You know how I feel.”

“I just know what I want,” she replied, “And that is the one that I met when we were both children. I wish to have this between us for all of our lives. You need not visit, you know. I think that you want the same thing as I.”

“I don’t think that it would be permitted,” he replied, “You are who you are and I am who I am.”

“They’d never refuse me, my love,” she said, “My mother has never denied me and the Court would follow her words.”

“But I’m—”

She cut him off, reaching out into the dark to cover his mouth.

“You have been mine ever since I found you,” she said, removing her hand as she rose from her seat to walk closer to him, “That they made you the gardener means nothing, compared to that. Do you wish to be gone from my side? Say the word, and I shall have you moved somewhere else, if you so desire.”

“Never,” he replied sincerely, “I want to be with you wherever you go.”

“Then take my hands, my Champion,” the Fairy Princess stated gently, “And we shall nevermore be parted from one another.”

Slowly, the boy took her hands and knelt before her.

“Rise,” she smiled, “You shall stand by my side, my love. Come with me. We have to get you your sword.”


	70. Whispers in the Dark

**Song:[ _Whispers in the Dark_](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DomuYo49_SOQ&t=M2E4YjI2NjhiMTUzN2Y3MGNlMjE0YzZiOTFiYTc2M2RkNjVlZTRlOCxyUXFLTEJJVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AdQVg7WQokQ70TRl2U0G3Vw&p=https%3A%2F%2Flogo-comics.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F183040751354%2Fthe-songs-and-stories&m=0) by Skillet**

**[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/42299150): [It's the End of the World](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JsxavPANO8s&feature=youtu.be)  
**

 

She was tired and she was alone. The night was cold and the night was dark. The forest was empty. She sat under a tree, waiting for death to claim her.

“You seem to be in trouble,” a soft voice noted, causing her to pause and glance around, trying to find the source of the voice to no avail, “There is firewood beside you, you know?”

She turned slowly, only to see a pile of wood that she could have sworn was not there before resting beside her.

“You know how to make a fire,” the voice noted, “And this is no place to die.”

She did not know what to make of that, but she decided to take its advice and start a fire.

Once the fire had reached a comfortable level, she sat beside it, warming her hands in the heat of the flames.

“That feels better, doesn’t it?” the voice asked gently, “Warm yourself up some more.”

“Who are you?” she asked, “And why are you helping me?”

“You have my fascination,” the voice said, “And I’m just an admirer of fascinating things and people.”

“Wouldn’t you be more comfortable closer to the fire?”

“No,” the voice replied freely, “I like where I am and where I am is the best place for me to be.”

“Why are you here?”

“To make things better for you,” the voice replied, “And to spend time with you.”

“What are you?” she pressed.

“A shadow,” the voice replied, “I am that which exists in the dark.”

“Then why help me?” she asked, clearly exasperated with the lack of a direct answer.

“Because you were kind to me thrice along the road,” the voice replied as glowing shapes in the air, like red eyes stared at her from within the shadows, “You gained nothing from doing so, yet you went out of your way to do so. That is magical, to me.”

“It’s just human nature,” she replied.

“You’re still extraordinary,” the voice said, the eyes, “You performed three kindnesses to me, and I wish to know you better. All that I know of you is that which I have seen, and I wish to learn more about you as a person. As such, I wanted to speak with you for a time.”

“What exactly do you want to know?” she asked cautiously.

“Anything,” the voice said sincerely, “I want to know you better, to know you as a person beyond that which I had already found from the time in which you entered my forest. After that, I have not made a plan, but coming to know you is the goal of mine.”

“Very well,” she replied, “But tell me about yourself, if you wish for me to talk with you.”

And so, the pair passed the night, speaking in whispers as they began to grow closer that night.


	71. Desert Rose

**Song:[ _Desert Rose_](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DC3lWwBslWqg&t=MWM2ZTU2MDU4YzFlYTU2MThhNDIxNjNiOWJjNWJmN2Q2OTYyYzU0NSxyUXFLTEJJVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AdQVg7WQokQ70TRl2U0G3Vw&p=https%3A%2F%2Flogo-comics.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F183205159864%2Fthe-songs-and-stories&m=0) by Sting**

**[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/42506030): [Welcome to the Black Parade](https://youtu.be/RRKJiM9Njr8)  
**

 

He continued through the desert. She called to him. She called him ever on.

He did not remember when she had first called to him, but he knew that he would follow her to the end of the world. He wasn’t sure why that was, but he knew it was true, and so he continued through the desert.

He could not remember who he was, but he knew that he was supposed to be here. The sun hung high in the air, the intense heat causing the very air to dance as he continued. It was dry, it was hot, and it seemed almost endless, yet still he continued.

He heard a song in the air, and he continued along his way. The song called to him. She called to him. It was beautiful and it was his only companion as he traveled. The song continued ever on, carried on the wind as he made his way onward. He did not think there was any thing he could do other than find her.

The sun continued to burn the sand around him and he found himself wishing for rain that he did not expect to come. Nonetheless, he continued through the desert. The song was closer but it was still not close enough.

He knew that he would know her when he got there. He did not know why he knew this, but he knew that he would. Perhaps it was that she would be the one singing the song. He was certain that it would be her that was singing.

Sometimes, he thought he saw her, in the corner of his eye, but when he would turn, the image vanished. He dreamed of her. At least, he suspected that it was her. He could never recall what she looked like when he awoke, but, in the dreams, he always felt peace when he saw her. The song continued and he continued through the desert.

Shadows danced where they were able to form. He felt a strange sort of peace with the shadows, even if they were few and far between from time to time.. Anything to give him company. He could hear the song getting closer. He was getting closer to her with each step.

He wished he could remember anything. His adventures through the desert were long and quiet, save for the times that he had to fight dangerous beasts. All he knew was that he was heading to find her and that he would not know what was going on until he had found her.

Too soon, he reached a cave and heard the song echoing through. He steeled his nerves, readying himself to see her. He had gone so long through the desert, searching for her, and he did not know what he could possibly say. This was the moment he had been waiting for. After some time, he realized that he would never figure out what to say if he remained outside of the cave. He entered slowly, the singing guiding him onward. And then, he saw it. A simple sword in a simple sheath, resting upon a golden pedestal in a magnificent room within the cave. The singing had suddenly stopped. All that was there was him and the blade. Despite this, he felt compelled to approach. Slowly, reverently, he ran his hand along the sheath before drawing the blade, the silver shining beautifully from the sunlight that entered through a massive circular hole in the roof of the cave.

At the sight, he remembered. This was his other half, his partner. This was the sword that had been with him for so long. The longing that had plagued him, the emptiness that haunted him, vanished as he looked upon her.

“I was wondering when you would arrive, darling,” a musical voice whispered in his mind. He knew her well. Even without his memories, her singing called to him.

“I’m sorry I’m late, dear,” he said gently, taking the sheath from the pedestal, “It took some time to get back to you.”

“I only care that we are together once more,” she assured him, “There is evil in the world. We shall travel once more and fight it, as we always have done.”


	72. Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head

**Song:[ _Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head_](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DOT1HCQcSHW0&t=YWVkMTE4ZmU1YmNiZDNmOTFkZDQyMTBmMTcwZDJiMDYxOTg1ZTUwNyxyUXFLTEJJVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AdQVg7WQokQ70TRl2U0G3Vw&p=https%3A%2F%2Flogo-comics.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F183372917649%2Fthe-songs-and-stories&m=0) by BJ Thomas**

**[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/42713306): [Alice's Tango](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZK68oArEgHM&feature=youtu.be) **

 

“Excuse me,” Marianna heard from a ditch as the party continued onward towards whatever evil it was that they were hunting that time, “I hate to be a bother, but I could use some help.”

The entire party stopped at that. They could not see the speaker from the piles of leaves and branches that filled the ditch, but his voice could be heard clearly.

“What’s troubling you, sir?” she asked.

“Well, I seem to have fallen to pieces and am currently stuck in this ditch as a result,” he explained, “And I have been here for some time. I was nearly washed away in the rain just this morning. Would it trouble you much to help me out of this ditch?”

“Are the branches too heavy for you?” the Servant of the Healer asked in fascination, “Or are you in an awkward position that prevents you from getting out?”

“More the latter,” the voice explained, “Though there are so many branches in here that even my attempts to dislodge even a part of myself has been impossible. All I’ve accomplished is managing to make drops of the rain that lingered in the leaves to start falling on my head. I believe that if the topmost branch were removed, I would be able to at least free myself enough to get out.”

Uncaringly, the Young Miss drew her enchanted sword and sliced the branch into several pieces before sheathing it once more.

“Thank you ever-so-much!” the voice said as the remaining branches began to push upward, revealing a headless body that looked as if it were held together by stitches.

As most of their party drew their weapons in surprise, Marianna was surprised to see the Young Miss was not doing so, seeming completely at ease as the body began fumbling through the rest of the branches. Beside her, the Clever Girl seemed to not seem particularly concerned after seeing that her beloved was unconcerned. Deciding to follow their lead, Marianna sheathed her own blessed swords and waited.

“This is a rather embarrassing situation that you’ve found me in,” said the voice from the bushes, “You see, I was an explorer for some time, but a necromancer had decided to test out his craft and I happened to have been the nearest human body. The fellow did apologize for that after the fact, but the deed was done. Fortunately for me, he was, murdering me aside, an agreeable enough fellow—I’m over here—and he let me leave after he determined that it worked. After that, I thought to myself, ‘Well, old boy, you’re practically unkillable now. You can explore more ancient tombs without fear of too much damage.’ You see—To your right!—I felt that I was much better off this way. The demons of that one temple were rather put out when they tried to kill me that one time, but that—There I am!—was easily repaired, as you can see. Unfortunately, I had popped a seam on my neck the other day, when the big storm blew in, and… well you can see what happened.” So saying, the head was plucked out of the ditch and placed upon the neck of the body precariously. “I say! Are you adventurers as well?”

The Young Miss nodded before turning towards the Clever Girl, who took that as her cue to speak. “We are seeking to rid the world of all evil. May I have your name?”

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” Marianna noted, “Having said that, why do you ask if we’re adventures?”

“Well, I have little to do at the moment,” he said, removing his head and shaking it to get water out, “I would like to go on a new adventure and it seems that providence has brought us all together. I say, are you one of the Fair Ones?” That question was directed towards the Clever Girl. Before she could speak, he said “I believe that I shall keep my name to myself. Explorer, I would like to be called, and I will join you on your quest if you will have me. I don’t suppose you have a needle and thread handy…”

The Young Miss shrugged before gesturing to the Healer to help him reattach his neck. It seemed their party had grown once more.


	73. Deception

**Song:[ _Deception_](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DkQKs0eQHZRs%26feature%3Dyoutu.be&t=M2NiYzc5NDNjMjNiMzBiOThjMmUwNGQzM2I5YTljZjg2N2QxYmMxOCxyUXFLTEJJVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AdQVg7WQokQ70TRl2U0G3Vw&p=https%3A%2F%2Flogo-comics.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F183532531334%2Fthe-songs-and-stories&m=0) from Jem and the Holograms**

**[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/42923228): **_[Hide and Seek](https://youtu.be/O6F8AwiTw4M)_****

 

She paced the living room with a black masquerade mask in her hands, murmuring to herself words that she wanted to tell, but wanted to get just right before she spoke them.

“Hey…” she tried again, “So you know how… That’s terrible…”

She let out a slow breath before glancing at the wall on the clock and tried for the twenty-fifth time that day, “I’ve got something I should have told you a long time ago, but I kept saying to myself that it wasn’t the right time. Maybe… Maybe there’s never a right time you know? I even put on this getup to… Well, I guess so I’d feel more confident when I do this. I’m… Well, you can tell who I am. There’s so many headlines with my name on them. This is who I am. I-I… I know that this is a bit of a shocker, isn’t it? I understand if you don’t want to talk to me after this. I never told you about this, and I’m not exactly on the side of the angels here, but I just… I just want to be honest with you, even if you decide to end this. I just need to explain this to you.

“It started off as a way to blow off steam and make some easy money, you know,” she said, looking down at the mask in her hands, “College costed a lot and there were so many things going on in my life. I saw an ad for a job as a lackey for Toybox and I figured ‘Why not?’ It seemed like a pretty good gig. Put on a mask and a patchwork-looking dress to give a doll-theme, go in, make a mess, get out. It’s pretty easy to disappear into a crowd, and the pay was good. Really good. No one was getting hurt by it, so I figured it was fine. I started to enjoy it. It was easy and I was good at it. So, I started going for bigger and bigger jobs. And then I really started to have fun with it.

She ran her fingers over her mask before slipping it onto her face, “I was out of college by the time I realized that this was what all I wanted to do with my life. So, I picked a gimmick and started going into business for myself as Miss Patchwork. I started building myself up as a pillar, someone who worked her way up to the top from the bottom. The other gangs started hemorrhaging henches and cronies and everything in between, all of them coming to me. The Patchwork Gang is what they started calling us. I thought I was happy with what I had.

She let out a deep breath. “Then, I met you. I was casing a bank and I saw you there, playing your violin on the fountain outside like you were supposed to be there. I just… I wanted to get to know you better. So, I passed casing the place on to one of my lieutenants and started talking to you. And we clicked. We really clicked. I hadn’t realized how alone I was until we started talking. So I asked if you wanted to get a coffee. We went from there. One day, you asked what I did for a living, and I lied. I lied to you and then I couldn’t stop.

Her eyes began to tear up despite her audience not even being there, “I was the number one in this town and I was happy with you. I didn’t want it to end, so I kept my secrets, but I-I can’t do it anymore! I want to be honest with you. I want to be myself with you, wholly and utterly. So, I’m telling you everything, just laying it out here. If… If you don’t want to be with me anymore, I won’t bother you. I just… I just wanted to tell you.”

“It looks like we both had something we had wanted to say,” she suddenly heard his voice from the doorway. Turning, she saw him standing there, dressed as a concert violinist, his violin and bow in one hand and a devilish mask on his face, the mask of the Maestro of Mayhem, an up-and-comer in the villain community, “I’ve been listening for a while now. I came here to tell you about myself, but it looks like we were both due for a surprise.”


	74. Hear Ye All You Rascals

**Song:[ _Hear Ye All You Rascals_](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DZCqByEqwrJI&t=Y2VjMmExZjU3NTA1YzIxNDBmNTM0OWQ4ZDAwMjA0MzVhODBjN2JlMyxyUXFLTEJJVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AdQVg7WQokQ70TRl2U0G3Vw&p=https%3A%2F%2Flogo-comics.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F183858501199%2Fthe-songs-and-stories&m=0) by Halfling Camp**

**[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/43340450): [Shine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6VDfI07w7gI&feature=youtu.be)**

 

They had set up camp for the night and the Servant of the Healer had pulled out a fiddle as the rabbits they had caught earlier were cooked on a set of spits.

“The world is full of monsters vile, but they ain’t here at the time! So lift your roast and propose a toast to these drunken friends of mine!” he sung as he played.

“Where does he even keep those instruments?” the Ace of Spades asked.

“He keeps them where he is and he is not,” the Healer replied, watching him with what passed as a fond expression from the largely inexpressive girl, “It is a part of what we are.”

Seeming to be lost to his own music, the Servant continued to play.

“He was shot while he was singing…!”

“I know this one!” the Explorer noted cheerfully, “It had been a classic when I was a boy, long before my death!”

“We heard it when it was first being sung,” the Healer noted, “Before we became like this.”

“I had been around long before it was even written,” the Clever Girl mused as the Young Miss continued to make sure that the rabbits got an even amount of heat all around.

“And what of the rest of you?” the Explorer asked.

“I’m not old enough for either of those,” the Lady Knight noted, while the Ace of Spades pointed her thumb at her, illustrating that she was in a similar position.

The Young Miss, meanwhile, just shrugged and gave a gesture that read as “so-so.”

When the song had ended, the Servant put the fiddle within the cloak he wore and it vanished. It was then that he walked up to the Healer and offered his gloved hand to her, which she took, rising to her feet.

“That was the first song I learned,” he noted, “Because it was one that you enjoyed.”

“I’m aware,” she replied, “You spent weeks figuring out how to play it by ear. The ostler’s cat nearly threw us out of the inn because of how you were brutalizing that fiddle.”

“Remember how we danced to it?” he asked.

“I do,” she answered.

“If you would like, I could try my hand at playing it,” the Explorer offered, “I do know how to play a fiddle, and I’m familiar with the song.”

At that, the Servant reached into the cloak once more and withdrew the fiddle and its bow. As the Explorer took the instrument from the bodyless figure, the Servant said, “Do not allow any harm to come to it.”

“Now hear ye all you rascals! With your bellies full of pie! And listen to this tale of old where the hero’s four-feet high!” the Explorer began, playing almost as well as the Servant.

The Servant, in response, took the Healer’s hands in his own gloved hands and the pair began to dance beautifully together. The Young Miss took this as her own cue, smiling slightly as she wordless got the Reflection to take over with the rabbits before approaching the Clever Girl, who joined hands with her as they began to dance to the tune as well. The mood brightened, they continued to dance until supper.


	75. We Like To Party!

**Song:[ _We Like To Party_](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D6Zbi0XmGtMw&t=ZWJmNmUwOTJkNmUxMjgwN2U5OGIzZTQzMDY5NTU5MDdlNGZmNjI1ZixyUXFLTEJJVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AdQVg7WQokQ70TRl2U0G3Vw&p=https%3A%2F%2Flogo-comics.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F184026045064%2Fthe-songs-and-stories&m=0) by Vengaboys**

**[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/43556087#workskin): **_[Days in the Sun](https://youtu.be/deVaBYbP3WY)_ ****

 

It was a rundown amusement park. That was all that was really known. Supposedly, it had been popular at one point, but it was now a rundown wreck, and no one alive ever talked about it. What more could be said about it?

It was a relic of a long-forgotten era that no one was certain actually happened. Naturally, it was the source of the sort of ghost stories that people heard from time to time. And children were prone to being dared to visit it by their fellow children. Some would actually do it, but they gained nothing from it but some mild scares before they left. Empty park mascot costumes, broken-down rides, and a rundown clockwork band. It had a carousel, naturally, but the horses and the carousel, itself had no paint upon them to speak of and it looked as if no force on earth could ever get it to move again.

Rusted intercoms played nothing, and the whole wreck was essentially of more value as a source of ghost stories to scare one another. It was, simply put, a tragic display of faded colors and broken machines.

That was the state it was in when the strange girl walked in. No one remembered where she came from, but, had anyone been watching her or the amusement park at the time, the would have assumed that it was another one of those affairs where someone was dared to go to that relic. Indeed, she didn’t seem to have much interest in going in there, yet onward she went.

It was, as previously stated, a wreck, but the girl in the bright red coat seemed undeterred as she made her way through the place, not certain as to why she was here, but certain that she was going the right way. It had a Ferris Wheel and a roller coaster, among a few other rides, but she barely spared each a glance as she continued onward. She ran her hand along the side of a carousel horse, lingering for a moment as if she were trying to figure something out, before she unceremoniously continued along the way, passing a series of carnival-types of games that had rusted or rotted in places, their prizes all plundered some time after the closing of the amusement park.

Onward she continued. She paused for a moment to see the clockwork band, the players bent over themselves, their painted faces, their instruments, and even their uniforms worn down by the elements, creating a rather miserable-looking display. She passed the area where the mascot costumes were laying, looking abandoned and worn out as she continued along her route.

And then, she reached the funhouse. It was once a beautiful castle-like structure that had brilliant colors. Now, it was simply a crumbling wreck on the exterior, yet she could swear that she heard melodic laughter within. She had no idea what it was, but she was going to find out. She continued onward, examining the reflections with fascination as she traveled through the halls that changed and reflected her with no issue. The laughter had died, yet she still was drawn onward. Her walk continued until she had reached the center of the funhouse, where, upon a simple stool, was a battered black top hat, while a cane with a spherical head leaned against that same stool. They were coated in decades worth of dust, yet she felt something within her soul connecting to them, telling her to take them.

She did not know what it was, but she knew that this was what she had come for. Dusting them off, she took the cane in her hand and placed the battered top hat atop her head.

A smile bloomed upon her face as she felt a sense of wholeness overcome her. The hat became neater and the paint on the cane became a much more distinct black as her coat became a tailcoat, the rest of her outfit changing to look more like a ringmaster of some sort of traveling show. Twirling her cane in her hand, she waved her hand and the lights of the park began to burst into life, the years of decay promptly vanishing as she continued onward, skipping through her park as it began to look lively.

“Wake up, boys and girls!” she said as she passed the rotting mascots, which began to move under their own power, the color returning as the rot began to vanish. She knocked on the carousel, causing it to spin to life, the paint restoring as the games around it restocked themselves with prizes. She kept dancing around the park, everything coming to life before she got to the band. With a snap of her fingers, the band began to play, the tune at first disjointed and out of tune, but, as the performers became more lively and the color returned, the music got more and more in tune before it was a fully functional band again.

The gates looked as if they were made of gold again as she danced in the center of her park, before she tapped the ground beneath her feet with the end of her cane.

“We’ve been in one place for too long, everyone!” she smiled, “Time for a change of scenery.”

And with another snap of her fingers, the entire amusement park vanished, off to appear in another town. It had been too long.


	76. Love Is War

**Song:[ _Love is War (Rock Version) English Cover_](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3Dq8FH-YlsPKk&t=ZTU3ODcyMTM3M2NiMjAxMzUyNWE1ZDE5MWRhNGJlYmI2YjViNTJiMSxyUXFLTEJJVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AdQVg7WQokQ70TRl2U0G3Vw&p=https%3A%2F%2Flogo-comics.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F184194609814%2Fthe-songs-and-stories&m=0) Originally by Ryo with Miku Hatsune, Cover by Lollia**

**[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/43766731): [White Flag](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j-fWDrZSiZs)**

 

Eternity. That is what it felt like. Eternity before the soul that was meant to wield the Gauntlet was born. It was created by the villainous King Giuseppe von Blackthorn, the swordsman known for the rivers of blood left in his wake. Forged by a villain, the Gauntlet knew that it was meant for better but Giuseppe had used it however he wanted to, forcing it to act with his dark magic. When he finally died, it consumed him, and then it took his son when he tried to take command of it.

The Gauntlet was destined for one person, but she was not born for so many years. And so it waited, absorbing souls until it was too many for any to ever count.

And yet…

And yet, the Gauntlet felt the right soul arrive so many times in the past, only to just miss the Gauntlet. It was maddening. The Gauntlet was born to aid one singular soul.

When the Young Miss finally arrived in the chamber in which it was placed, the Gauntlet welcomed her presence and allowed her to place it upon her hand. And the Gauntlet, which was simply magic that knew its nature better than its creator did, was finally completed. Its wielder had finally arrived, the magic mingling with her spirit until the sheer power of the thing was subsumed to her will. The knowledge of those that it had taken was in her mind, the raw power of all of those souls were at her disposal, and the immortality that the Gauntlet offered was hers.

And the Young Miss showed herself worthy. She was a champion of justice, a protector of the people that wished to bring evil to an end. She loved all that was good in the world, an all-consuming love that was powerful enough to level kingdoms. Every slice of a sword, every removal of a soul, every last use of the souls within the Gauntlet were done for the sake of that love of all others.

And yet…

And yet the Young Miss felt incomplete. Even with the Gauntlet that had been paired to her soul long before she had been born in this life, she was missing something. When she and the Lady Knight had met the Clever Girl, it finally all came together. She knew exactly what she was missing. She knew who she had been missing.

And with the discovery of her love and the memories of her pasts pooling together, she found herself becoming more and more alive in her dearest’s presence. How could she not? She knew for certain that she did not revel in battle. She battled for a reason. Her blades would raise for the sake of love, and not just any love. She fought so that she could live in peace with her beloved.

That was what she fought for, even when she could not remember. She dreamed of making the world a better place so that she and her beloved, indeed, so that all people could live to enjoy love.

She would paint the battlefields red to make the world safe for people to love. And it was with this passionate refrain with which the magic of the Gauntlet sang in unison, having been waiting for this for so long. The Young Miss and her companions would defeat the great evils in the world. Even if it was endless, the war against evil would still be fought for the sake of love.

The Young Miss offered her beloved a soft smile before gently kissing her knuckles. They would prevail. She was certain of that.


	77. 500 Miles

**Song:[ _I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)_](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DtbNlMtqrYS0%26feature%3Dyoutu.be&t=MTE2YmJiY2E1YTMxMDM0ZDJiN2NiZTE2N2YyZTQxNGNjNzBiNGQ1MyxyUXFLTEJJVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AdQVg7WQokQ70TRl2U0G3Vw&p=https%3A%2F%2Flogo-comics.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F184357734834%2Fthe-songs-and-stories&m=0) by The Proclaimers**

**[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/43982986): [Quiet Water](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OJdWi5cz6kE&feature=youtu.be)  
**

 

It didn’t matter to him in the slightest that he remembered nothing of who he was. What he did know was that he had a place to go. How he knew that, he did not know. How he knew where he was going, he also did not know. All he knew was that he had a place to be. He was supposed to be by her side. He smiled softly at the thought, even though he didn’t even actually know who she was. He didn’t even actually know what she looked like.

All he knew was that he was lonely without her and she was in his dreams. All he knew was that he wanted to go along with her, wherever she went. He had traveled so far and he knew that he would not stop traveling until he was with her once more. Anything else was unimportant until he was with her once more. He continued walking. He had walked five hundred miles and he still had some distance to go. He was that much closer, and that was what mattered to him. He would return to her.

It was a simple thing to him, despite all that he did not know. He traveled from town to town, working odd jobs to fund his travels. He was going to get there, regardless of the distance. He was going to return to her.

He couldn’t even remember the color of her hair, the shape of her smile. None of it was there and yet he knew that she was the same person in his dreams and he knew that she was real. He was going to return to her, and everything would make sense. He continued his journey.

He was getting closer each day, and he was not going to stop until he got to her. No matter how long he traveled, he knew that he would be reunited with her. The thought made him smile.

He had walked five hundred miles and five hundred more, and now he was collapsed at what he instinctively knew was her door. He knew that this was the place he was supposed to reach. He could barely muster the energy to knock upon the door before the world faded around him. He dreamed of her and, had he been able to remember it when he woke, he would have been able to draw her face from memory.

It was long after that when he finally awoke. He was in a bed, a luxury that he hadn’t been familiar with in some time. He didn’t know what he was supposed to make of that. All he knew was that the bed was familiar. That much, he knew, but he hadn’t the slightest idea why that was the case. And then, she entered the room. He knew that face. Even though that face hadn’t been one he could remember, he could not forget it. It was her. That much, he knew.

“Oh, my love,” she smiled beautifully, “I had thought you were destroyed.”

He had traveled so far, waiting for the moment that he would finally meet her, but, now that he was here, he didn’t know what to say. He was speechless. He had come so far, but all of the thoughts that had been in his head had vanished when her eyes had met his.

“We have so much to do,” she said gently, holding out a key before jabbing it into his chest, “They had separated us, but we are together again.” His gloved hand reached for her masked cheek, gently caressing the faceless face of hers as she began to turn the key. His clockwork heart ticked once more, the memories coming with them. He remembered more and more with each twist of the key, until she released the key and allowed the gears to tick and turn once more.

The Great Witch Anna and her familiar spirit, the spirit created by the combination of magic and science, who had heard her request for companionship. The spirit who shared his food with her and had, in turn, had her food shared with him, creating their bond. They were together once more. They would begin anew. Perhaps they would be adventurers, this time. Thy had done so in the past, before they had settled here. Perhaps it was time to start again. The smile and wink she gave hi told him that they were on the same page.


	78. Hero

**Song:[ _Hero_](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DuGcsIdGOuZY&t=NTljYjQ5ZDM4NjUzYzIxNjFiMjUwM2JhN2IwZmE2MDc2ZDdiODU4YixyUXFLTEJJVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AdQVg7WQokQ70TRl2U0G3Vw&p=https%3A%2F%2Flogo-comics.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F184519444119%2Fthe-songs-and-stories&m=0) by Skillet**

**[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/44204893): [Poor Unfortunate Souls (Metal Cover Version)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3f8hnCc_r5k&feature=youtu.be)  
**

He slid the mask over his face the way he did every single time. It was his line of work, and he was good at it. It was the last thing he really had that he was good at, if you were to ask him about it.

It was not the healthiest vocation, but he didn’t care about that. He needed this. Every single time he tried to move on, he always found himself in the same place. He found himself putting the same mask on his face. His mask firmly in place, he let out a weary sigh and readied himself for work. It was night, and he was ready to put on the same show he always did.

At the bank, he sighed tiredly as he continued going through the motions.

“Just put the money in the bag,” he said, “I’m not in the mood for anything funny.”

It was unprofessional of him, perhaps. He was supposed to be Masquerade, the lively, animated villain whose every fight was a dance of life and death, but he just couldn’t muster up the energy. How could he, when he didn’t feel any excitement, any passion at all?

How could he have any energy when the city’s champion had fallen?

There was no reason to be excited. There was no reason to do anything, and yet here he was, robbing a bank as if everything were going normally. As if Captain Protector would show up and stop him like always. But Captain Protector wasn’t going to come save the day in the nick of time. At best, the police would come if they thought to activate the alarm.

After the bags were filled and placed before him, he stared at the large bags emptily before he let out another tired sigh.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “You can put it all back. I don’t have the heart for this. Not today.”

“What?” the teller asked.

“I have no interest in robbing your bank,” he said, heading out the doors, “Put everything back the way it was.”

It just wasn’t the same. He began walking, not even bothering removing his signature devilish masquerade mask, his cane clutched firmly in his hand as he absently walked.

No one bothered to stop him in his aimless wandering, but he didn’t rightly care about that. He didn’t rightly care about anything at the moment. He continued staring at the ground as he walked before coming to a stop at a pedestal of some sort. Looking up, he saw that his walk had led him to one place he would have never consciously gone to.

Captain Protector’s statue loomed over him, smiling beatifically while looking to the sky.

“Why did you have to go?” he asked, “You were the champion of the weak. You were everything I’m not. You were practically a god walking the earth, and you fought to save everyone all the time, never wavering, never surrendering. Look at me. I’m a burned out supervillain. I’m just as fast as a human can be and armed with a weaponized cane and top hat. God knows I never fought for what was right. I’m a coward who can’t even rob a bank because no one is coming to stop him.

"I have no idea who you were under that helmet,” he chuckled bitterly, “but I’d like to think that I knew you pretty well. At least, as well as anyone who didn’t know you in life could. You were so much better than all of us. You were the hero that everyone needed. Me? I’m just a supervillain that couldn’t find a better job than to rob people. Even I needed you, in a twisted sort of way. You were the one person who could match me step for step, and you made me have to be better. You’re the reason why I kept having to step up my game. You wanted to help so many people, but I’m just me. We need you. I need you. I’m falling to pieces without you to give me purpose. So, if you can, please pull off one more miracle for us all. Please.”

There was no response.

“Heh. It figures. My prayers never get answered.”

He heard someone screaming from a nearby alley. So close to the memorial of Captain Protector? He was not going to let something like that stand. He rushed to the alley, only to see a woman in the process of being mugged. Giving the glare that had been the terror of lesser criminals even when he had first started out, he tapped his cane against the brick wall, causing them to turn just in time to see the glowing eyes he’d built into his mask focused on them.

“Well, gentlemen, I would like to give you a sporting chance,” he said, his voice causing them to all freeze still completely, “If Captain Protector cannot come to stop you, I suppose that it falls to me to do so. If you want to leave now, do so. If not, I will beat you all until you will be able to rethink your life choices for the months it takes you to heal.”


	79. We Didn't Start The Fire

**Song:[ _We Didn’t Start the Fire_](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DdhqH4QpSgBI&t=M2FlN2NkNWM0Mzc0YzNhZGY5ODZlNzYzODNjMDg3ODdjMGExNzI3MCxyUXFLTEJJVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AdQVg7WQokQ70TRl2U0G3Vw&p=https%3A%2F%2Flogo-comics.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F184681781909%2Fthe-songs-and-stories&m=0) by Billy Joel**

**[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/44421325): [The Man in Black](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dY8_vZXo8oY&feature=youtu.be)  
**

 

Victoria grinned at the sensation of a bullet flying from a sniper’s rifle It was truly magical to her when these things happened. She was War, and she took her duties seriously. Perhaps she was the most serious of the group, when you looked at it from the perspective of how they operated.

Holly worked the most, but she was able to do things without even bothering to try. Of all of them, Holly was the Omnipresent Fact. Death was always there. And yet, Holly seemed fascinated by humans and, impossibly, she managed to fall in love with one.

John was the laziest. He worked, but he did it almost begrudgingly. He was the most human of the group and tended to take up human hobbies. Simply put, he just did what he did because it was expected, and occasionally dabbled in experimentation out of idle curiosity. Pestilence spread like an infection, and she couldn’t help but wonder if humanity was infectious as a result, since they had his interest.

Willow did her job. That could not be argued. Yet Willow simply allowed things to happen and acted on whims. She was cold and distant yet she was the burning hunger. Famine was simply another dish to her.

Victoria was the one who did her job perfectly. She wasn’t even as overt as the others. She was the more subtle of the group. She never started the wars. Not directly. The fires of war burned into every heart, she found, regardless of how faint the flame was. She never started it. War was a much more intricate game. She let the fire within their hearts burn, and she simply offered the slightest nudge when they were in the contemplative stage.

Perhaps that was why, despite herself, she was fascinated by them. She gave them the toys. They used them. Life did not happen in a vacuum. She was deeply fascinated by that particular fact. Wars were never started for perfectly straightforward reasons. Tensions rose, and she was able to trace the fires that burned. War was always there. Conflict brewed in the smallest of things, and those small things were where she did the most of her work. She fueled their conflicts by simply fanning the flames that were already burning. Countless centuries passed and there was so much chaos and bloodshed to her credit. So many War gods and goddesses existed, but she was War, itself, and she took great pride in doing her job properly.

This, however, was even more enjoyable. The invaders came from the stars and tried to take their world, and the humans were displeased with this slight against them. They rode against these creatures, joining together for the time being as they fought their common enemy. The world would go back to its usual conflicts in time, but the fires of War were blazing, a flame that consumed the enemy savagely as they pressed onward.

And, now that the End was finally starting, they were not the only things there. So many gods, goddesses, and spirits flew into battle. The victorious dead rode alongside the others. She had one more trick up her sleeve, however.

Grinning, she reached down into the conflicts of human nature and reached even deeper, pulling out more soldiers for her war. Urban legends, modern myths, all manners of monsters that only existed in the human mind were brought to life. A faceless, well-dressed man-creature with impossibly long limbs walked forward, while a woman with bleeding eyes and fingers briefly flickered in the reflection of a window. A hooked hand scraped against a stone, sharpening the blade while other manners of creatures that caused tension in humans crawled out of the ether, nightmares and dreams taking forms, all intent on destroying the invaders.

She let the fires blaze, their flames licking at reality as the concepts took shape and began to tear through the enemy. The fires of War were blazing as they advanced. As she worked, she glanced at those who rode with her and noticed an angel with a righteous shotgun and a demon with a wicked sword, who both seemed to be keeping score as they slaughtered the invaders. She grinned broader. If she were to join, she’d win without question. All of the battles were hers, after all, even if all she did was stoke the flames.


	80. Livin' La Vida Loca

**Song:[ _Livin’ La Vida Loca (Shrek 2) Metal Cover_](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DkrY0UPurx2Q&t=NjlkMzQ2MjZkNGRjYmU1N2RlZDRiMDNlYzdmZWI2OTdhZWE0NWI1NCxyUXFLTEJJVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AdQVg7WQokQ70TRl2U0G3Vw&p=https%3A%2F%2Flogo-comics.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F184840927239%2Fthe-songs-and-stories&m=0) originally by Ricky Martin, Cover by Jonathan Young, Caleb Hyles, and SixteeninMono**

**[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/44633818): [Deal With The Devil (Cover)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=34oE8Q5mlBM&feature=youtu.be)  
**

 

He entered the shop, completely unprepared for what he saw. There were strange symbols on the walls, smoke along the floor that did not seem to come from a machine, and at the end of the room was a simple circular table with no light illuminating the area. Carefully, he walked up to the table. As if by magic, as he drew closer, her form began to be visible.

“Welcome back,” she said with a smile.

“What?” he asked in confusion, “This is the first time I’ve ever been here.”

“So, what is the problem?” she asked snapping her fingers as a crystal ball that he could have sworn had not been in front of her before suddenly illuminated, “What is it that you need of me?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly, adjusting his black suit jacket’s sleeve.

“Well, nothing couldn’t possibly be what you need,” she noted, a slight chuckle in her voice, “I mean, you wouldn’t be here for nothing. What business do you have with me?”

“A friend told me that this was the place for something to ease my pain,” he replied, “It’s my eyes. And my lower back. The doctor’s say there’s nothing wrong with either, but…”

“But you feel them anyway,” she noted, “I can help you with the pain, but I’ll need you to stay with me for a couple of days for observational purposes.”

“I don’t think that’s…”

“Necessary measures,” she replied, “It’s the policy I’m required to obey, or I’ll lose my license. Why don’t you have a seat?”

“I see…” he said, suddenly feeling the chair behind him pressed lightly behind his legs. He hadn’t even realized he had backed up at all. Once he had seated himself, she snapped her fingers again and the light of the crystal ball went out. He could have sworn he saw gray smoke before it cleared and revealed a tea set, from which she poured two glasses, passing one to him.

“Take that,” she said, a mocha-colored hand holding out the cup, “It’ll help.”

He drank the tea as she had bid. The pain had been getting more and more unbearable up until this point, and he was willing to try anything.

It was the evening when he woke up on a sofa, revealing that he was not still in the shop.

That, and the massive cauldron, the contents of which were currently being stirred by her. And yet, the pain was not there. He couldn’t feel the digging sensation at the base of his spine, nor did his eyes burn like they had been doing for some time. The faint light of the fire seemed to illuminate the room clearly as he stretched.

It was at that moment that he realized what, aside from the change in scenery was off about the situation. There were brooms sweeping the floor under their own power, the small kitchen a bit away from the room he was currently in had the dishes in the sink cleaning themselves as delicious smells began to emanate from the oven.

“So, you’re finally awake,” she noted, walking away from the cauldron while the cauldron continued to be stirred with a bright red grin on her face, “Great! I was wondering about when you’d wake up.”

Something about this seemed familiar to him. He wasn’t sure what it was, but the scents, the scenery, and her voice were all familiar somehow.

“It’s coming back to you, right?” she asked, pulling him to his feet, “You had me worried. You really need to take better care of your things. This is the third or fourth one I’ve had to make for you.”

“What?” he asked, but those words seemed right, somehow.

“Give me a couple more minutes,” she replied, “It’s easier to explain once you’re ready.”

“How will I know when I’m ready?” he asked in confusion as she snapped her fingers, a bottle of French champagne appearing on the coffee table, along with two glasses. She then pointed her finger and thumb like a gun, then lowered the thumb, causing him to feel a hole in his chest. Looking down, he saw cotton peeking out of a gap in his chest. With another snap of her fingers, however, he saw and felt the wound fix itself. The cauldron stopped stirring, causing her to head over to it. Reaching into the bubbling green liquid, she pulled out a clay pipe, before snapping her fingers, making smoke begin to rise from within.

“There we go,” she smiled, handing him the pipe. Unthinkingly, he took it and placed it in his mouth. The magic then completed itself, and he remembered.

“There we go!” she grinned broadly, pushing him back to his seat as a black cat approached them and leaped to his side, “I swear, the other witches don’t have to work this hard with their familiars.”

“Sorry, ma'am,” the enchanted scarecrow replied, the pipe firmly between his teeth as he petted his mistress’s cat, “The pipe fell out. Won’t happen again.”

“Well, let’s just all celebrate that you’re back,” she replied, “And that your glamours held up long enough for you to find your way home.”


	81. I'm A Pioneer

**Song:[ _I’m A Pioneer_](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DkTh6VnH7Ogg%26feature%3Dyoutu.be&t=ZmFlMDVlYTQ4NDc1OGM3NjY4NjE0MDdiY2FlMDExNjY4NzYwZTkzYixyUXFLTEJJVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AdQVg7WQokQ70TRl2U0G3Vw&p=https%3A%2F%2Flogo-comics.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F185004990964%2Fthe-songs-and-stories&m=0) from Tenchi Muyo**

**[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/44843137): [The Vaults of Fallout](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bWIbvAEwhyU)  
**

 

“Come with me,” she said gently.

“What?” he asked in shock.

“Come with me,” she repeated excitedly, bumping her shoulder against his as they sat under the stars.

“To space?” he asked in confusion.

“Yes!” she said, “How did I not think of it before?”

“But… But I have a life here,” he said, though even the words felt hollow.

“You’re chained down here,” she replied, “You fight with a smile whenever they come to fight us. Come with me.”

“I can’t,” he said, “My-my home, my friends…”

“What friends?” she remarked, rising to her feet, “And you clearly hate this place. Run away with me.”

“What’s up there?” he asked slowly.

“Anything,” she said, “Everything. We’ll sail the stars, blazing new trails, fighting evil wherever it crops up.”

He grew quiet. He didn’t have a response to that. Before he could formulate one, however, she pressed on, “There are so many mysteries out there. This place has nothing for you. You know it all.”

“But I can’t just leave. I was told to stay here.”

“Isn’t that so boring, though?” she asked, “You have no one here. Just an alarm and an automated system to feed you and keep you in ‘optimal health.’ Is that really all you want out of life? No people to talk to? Just a self-running space station that isn’t even really used anymore? When was the last time you received any signals?”

It had been too long. He had even told her as much when they first met. The signals stopped over three years ago, long before her ship had even shown up in the viewing window.

“We could go anywhere,” she said, “We could go everywhere. Anywhere we want, seeking the truth wherever we go. You love learning, you love fighting for justice. Your heart is calling you to break free. Come with me.”

His eyes began to mist over. He looked down at his hand, the mechanical multitool that  he’d had to put together out of scraps after accident early on in his time there. There had been no word from command about the event when it had happened, other than to ask if it hampered his effectiveness. This place had been his tomb for so long that he had almost forgotten what another person’s voice even sounded like. He couldn’t even remember what it felt like to be in non-simulated gravity. He had barely been in his early teens back when he’d been sent up.

And here she was, offering him out of this imprisonment.

“We belong out there,” she said, “You belong out there. It’s just destiny. You and me, traveling the cosmos, together.”

“Why me?” he asked.

“Because you get it,” she said, “You’re like me. It’s a faint little glimmer, but I see it there. You don’t like walking the straight and narrow. Not really. You feel the winds of destiny. You feel that cry for freedom deep, deep down. You don’t want to just be safe. You want to go beyond this small little world of yours. Come with me. Please.”

He looked at her outstretched hand, his hand moving up her gloved arm until they reached her eyes. Brilliant amber eyes greeted his dull blue, showing a desire to help him and travel the universe on endless adventures, but he saw it. Small, but noticeable, it was there. A faint dullness that he knew so well. That dull loneliness that he could see in his reflection every day.

A slight smile reached his lips as the dullness of his eyes faded away, leaving vibrant blue eyes in their place as he extended the mechanical hand and took her extended hand.

“Let’s sail, then,” he said as she began to lead him to the space ship that looked like a sailing ship out of a fairy tale from the outside, “Lead the way. To the stars.”


	82. Derse Dreamers

**Song:[ _Derse Dreamers_](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DNOkeFOkE7No%26feature%3Dyoutu.be&t=MmQzOGY0ODQzMDkxOTY5MjE4YTVmYzg4YzBhYmM3NDNkOTg3NGI4NSxyUXFLTEJJVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AdQVg7WQokQ70TRl2U0G3Vw&p=https%3A%2F%2Flogo-comics.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F185167752939%2Fthe-songs-and-stories&m=0) by Jeremy “Solatrus” Iamurri**

**[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/45076015): [Ma Belle Evangeline](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SmCCmF5hMgM&feature=youtu.be)  
**

 

The Space Station had been saved yet again. Princess Starlight and her group had defeated yet another evil that had meant to do harm to the ship before they once again left without a trace for anyone to use to find them. And yet again, the friends were chatting amongst themselves.

“Good work, ladies,” Bea, the mechanical member of the team and Princess Starlight herself, praised, “Everyone performed to optimal levels and we were successful.”

“It’s why we’re here,” Lady Comet said. Of the group, she was the least well-known as to what it was that she did before being called, especially due to her strange, unknowable appearance, which she had not ever changed out of since they had met her. Still, she was their friend, and she was earnest, so they gave her the space she desired.

“Indeed,” Bea nodded, “But I am glad that we friends have been successful in executing our missions.”

“Thanks, boss,” Lady Iron, the clone known as Catherine 12796 said slowly, “It’s been a bit of a long night, though. I think I’d like to turn in early tonight.”

“If you are certain,” Bea said slowly, “Are you well?”

“I’m fine,” she replied with a smile, “Just tired.”

“I’ll walk you there,” the cybernetic Lady Dark, real name Miranda, offered, “I’d hate for you to pass out on the way.”

Before she could protest, Catherine 12796 found herself promptly dragged out the door. Once the door had shut, Miranda shifted them so that Catherine 12796 was being held up by her arm being slung over Miranda’s shoulders. Once she was secured, Miranda led her, not to the quarters where the other Catherines were no doubt resting already, but to a medical room that Catherine 12796 knew was unoccupied and could only be accessed by security officers or medical staff. When the door opened at Miranda’s key-card, the cyborg dragged the clone into the room and shut the door behind them.

“What the hell was that?!” Miranda demanded.

“What do you mean?” Catherine 12796 asked in confusion.

“You nearly let the flitzing bugs get you is what I mean,” she glared, “You could have gotten yourself killed if I hadn’t managed to get that shield up to cover you enough to stop most of the damage.”

“It would have been an acceptable loss, given that the rogue attacking in that manner allowed for an opening that you were able to take advantage of, which secured the attack.”

“We don’t do ‘acceptable losses,'” she snapped, “We all go home. Every single time, we go home. You’re just lucky I’m the one that saw you, or the others would be yelling at you, too.”

“I don’t understand,” she replied, “I aided in the mission and the enemy was able to be defeated. If I had perished, it wouln’t have mattered in the long run.”

“Of course it would matter!” she replied incredulously, “You’d be dead!”

“And my replacement would have been decanted to take my place,” she countered, quite reasonably in her opinion, “One Catherine is as good as another.”

“One Catherine is not as good as another,” she glared, now looming over the girl as she forced her to sit on the patient’s mat, “Your our Catherine.”

“I had not accounted for sentimentality,” she mused, “I will arrange for my replacement to have my hairstyle upon being decanted. Will that be satisfactory?”

“No!” she snapped, “You could have the hair cut the same, the clothes be identical… You could have everything be exactly the same, but she wouldn’t be our Lady Iron!”

“I see…” she mused, “I will leave her a note stating what her duties are to be, then.”

“That’s not it either!”

“Then just tell me what you want her to be like!”

“I don’t want another Catherine!” she said, grabbing Catherine 12796 by the shoulders with metaphorical fire in her eyes as she spoke, “I want the Catherine I know to be fighting by my side. I want to be absolutely certain that the one that helped me through the worst experience of my life is with me when I’m fighting evil!”

Catherine 12796 paused at that, waiting for a continuation, something to explain the situation to her.

“When I first got these…” she flexed her mechanical fingers, “You were the one who got me through PT. You helped me, motivated me. You were my friend. I don’t want to lose my friend. I want to know that you won’t just try to get yourself killed because you think you’re expendable. I just want to keep fighting side by side with my friend.”

“I see…” she replied slowly, “I shall try to continue living then…”

She did not know why it felt right to say that, or why she delighted in Miranda’s words, but she knew that they were true and that was enough.


	83. Trick and Treat

**Song:[ _Trick and Treat_](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DlS9BDfMtkT4&t=MWQ0M2FlNjBhNGEzOGNmZmUxZGFiYzU0YzNlMGFlMjA3OTNjYjdmMSxyUXFLTEJJVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AdQVg7WQokQ70TRl2U0G3Vw&p=https%3A%2F%2Flogo-comics.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F185332031384%2Fthe-songs-and-stories&m=0) performed by Rin and Len Kagamine**

**[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/45313606): [Men In Black](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fiBLgEx6svA&feature=youtu.be)  
**

 

The house resting upon the hill was an abandoned wreck. That much was well-known. There was no one around who could say who it was that had owned it back in its heyday, or even if it had ever had a heyday. What was known was that it was abandoned, it was a wreck, and that, for reasons unknown, it was never condemned by the nearest city, which ostensibly owned the land, but never did anything about the land.

Naturally, it was a popular place to speculate upon, and the children and teens of the city had developed their own legends about the place, as the young are bound to do. It was The Haunted House, and that was what mattered, regardless of the tale told or the teller of the tale.

She was new in town. A strange girl with a love of strange, dark stories. Naturally, she collected the legends of the town in the same way that some collect stamps or coins. Properly curated, cross-indexed, and all sorts of arrangements that created a terrifying web on the wall of the hotel room in which she was staying at the time.

No one was sure what to make of her, but they warned her that the building should have been condemned even as she continued onward towards the wreck. She smiled and waved them off, eager to see what all the fuss was about for herself.

When she arrived at the house, so far from the main body of the city that there were no buildings beyond the nearest trees, she could swear that she heard laughter and singing. She knocked upon the door and was greeted by identical beings that looked like people, yet clearly weren’t. People weren’t made of synthetic materials, and weren’t missing pieces of themselves.

The one on the left was the boy, who had sawdust leaking from his empty right eye socket, inside of which, she could see splintered wood and what looked like broken glass. His jaw, however, was the worst part, as it was hanging off in a horrifying display, with splintered wood and a snapped hinge causing it to loll open. His fancy clothes looked rather ragged, but he moved like a proper gentleman as he bowed and took her jacket, hanging it upon the coat rack beside him. The one on the right was the girl, who had a crack running along her face and was missing her left hand, with the arm, itself, hanging loosely, as if the sleeve of her tattered dress was all that was keeping it even seemingly attached to her body. She took her hat off of her head before taking her by the hand and leading her forward.

“Welcome,” the boy said, taking her other hand. The girl finished the statement. “To the manor.”

“Would you care for some tea?” the pair said in unison.

She blinked before suddenly seeing the pair as they walked underneath the golden light of a chandelier. Neither of them looked artificial, suddenly. Although the boy was wearing a pair of cracked sunglasses over a full-face papier-mache mask and the girl wore a cracked porcelain mask, they otherwise looked like ordinary people dressed in lovely clothes.

“We’ve been waiting for you ever so long,” the girl said. The boy continued the thought, “We thought you would never come back.”

“Back?” she asked, confused by the statement.

“Back,” they agreed in unison as they pulled her into the study.

“I was here before?”

“Of course you were,” the pair replied as a cart containing a teapot that was issuing steam and three teacups rolled into the room.

“I think you’ve got the wrong person…” she said slowly.

“We have not,” the boy said as the girl poured the tea into the cups. As the boy began to add three spoonfuls of sugar to each cup, stirring each time, the girl said, “We missed you.”

When the tea was served, she took a drink of her own tea. It was a cinnamon tea, prepared at the exact temperature she liked, with the perfect amount of sugar for her taste.

“This feels familiar…” she mused.

“Indeed, mistress,” they said in unison. When the lights flickered once again, the sunglasses and masks had vanished for a brief second before suddenly returning, “You have been gone too long…”

They both raised their teacups to their masked lips in unison and drank in unison, before lowering their cups in unison. She watched as the boy’s face seemed to drip the tea from the mouth, somehow, while the girl’s mask did no such thing. Slowly, she finished her tea, only for it to reach her mind.

She knew why this house was familiar, why drinking tea in the study was so familiar. A dangerous grin spread across her face.

“You remember it?” the girl asked eagerly. The boy then asked, “You remember us?”

“Of course,” she said, snapping her fingers as a book flew off the shelf to her, the Glamours on the two dolls vanishing, “I am the Mistress of the Manor. And you, my darling Servants, are in need of repairs. I have been gone too long.” Another snap of her fingers caused the damages to the two to be repaired, their orange eyes glowing as their bodies became whole once more. She gestured towards the crystalline rose resting upon the table as she headed towards her staff, “Give me that. We have work to do if we’re to get the Manor back into tiptop shape. Let’s get started, my dears.”


	84. I Wanna Dance With Somebody

**Song:[ _I Wanna Dance With Somebody_](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DeH3giaIzONA%26feature%3Dyoutu.be&t=OTE3NmI4NWQ3MTQ0ZmRiYjJhN2IyZGQ3ZDRiNjZiYmM1MmZmNjdmMCxyUXFLTEJJVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AdQVg7WQokQ70TRl2U0G3Vw&p=https%3A%2F%2Flogo-comics.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F185487911434%2Fthe-songs-and-stories&m=0) by Whitney Houston**

**[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/45539218): [It's A Joy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2u7TRE-UDGQ&feature=youtu.be)  
**

 

The red shoes sat upon the shelf untouched. They were elegant. They were pristine and shone like rubies, and they were designed to dance. They were also never touched. No one wanted them. No one would use them. They were too beautiful, too brilliant. No one trusted such finery, especially since no one was sure who had actually made them and they never gathered dust despite being untouched for so long. The cobbler did not recall making them. The cobbler’s wife did not recall making them. They simply were there one day,and no one wanted to risk so much as touching them..

There was, however, one girl that coveted them. The elegance, the shine, the absolute sense of purpose to their design. She adored the red dance shoes. But they were out of her price range. She did not have the money to spend on the red shoes. Day after day, she would gaze longingly at them through the shop window. The shoes, themselves, seemed to call to her, almost. No words actually came out of them, but she felt a pull from them, a desire to dance with her. Sometimes, she could feel her legs twitch, as if they wished to dance, yet did not know how to dance. In the back of her mind, she could hear a meaningless tune, one that she could hear more and more every single day, but she knew it was incomplete. And so she dreamed on.

Her shoes were there every single day and, with luck, she would one day have the money to buy them.

“You, girl,” a lyrical voice said from behind her as she stared longingly through the window yet again, “I said ‘You, girl!'”

She turned, only to see a girl in a blue cape and a large hat that hid her eyes grinning at her, an elegant silver pipe on her hip while a plainly-dressed boy with a cloth tied over one eye stood perfectly still.

“What are you looking at, girl?” the girl asked her, tilting her hat to reveal a singular brown eye as she glanced through the window, “What has captivated your attention?”

“Nothing,” she said, trying to position herself between the girl who looked to be a lady, a musician of some sort perhaps, and the window, so she could hide her shoes.

“Oh, I doubt that,” the caped girl muttered, gently moving the girl behind her, “Worry not. I have no desire for new boots…” She paused in her chuckling as her eye seemed to lock onto something in the shop. “Brother, take a look at this…”

She would have sworn that, when the boy glanced through the window, he had raised his cloth to get a good look, but she must have been mistaken. Nonetheless, the pair turned towards her in unison, each only staring at her with their one visible eye as the girl in the cape asked, “Tell me, girl, is what you desire those red dancing shoes?”

“They are, good lady,” she said softly, “I’ve been saving up what I can for some time, now, but it’s not enough.”

“Why not buy cheaper shoes?” the boy asked, “Surely a practical pair of dance shoes would work just as well.”

“That is true, good lord,” she agreed, “But they would not be my shoes.”

“And those are?” the girl pressed.

“I dearly wish so,” she replied honestly, “I dream of possessing them someday, of dancing in them wherever I please. I feel as if I’m meant to have them.”

“Then you shall have them,” the girl said simply, reaching into her cape and pulling out eight silver coins, “Take these and purchase your shoes.”

“Good lady, I cannot just take your money…”

“You shall,” she stated, “Go and get your shoes.”

Taking the coins hesitantly, she entered the shop and went to purchase her shoes. After several minutes of arguing with the cobbler over the man’s fear of the shoes being cursed, she had nearly given up on ever getting her shoes when the brother walked in, positioning himself in front of her before reaching for the cloth over his eye and showing it to the cobbler.

“Give her her shoes.”

Looking terrified, the man did as he was told, handing her the shoes and taking the eight silver coins.

“What did you do?” she asked as they exited.

“I showed him the truth,” he replied simply, “The shoes are yours, now.”

She thanked both of them profusely, holding the shoes close to her heart before she decided to put them on and try dancing in them.

Once they were on, she felt it. A sense of completion as she began to dance to her incomplete, meaningless tune, which now played in her mind, whole and complete. And then, the Piper began to play the same tune and the Mirror smiled.

“Welcome, sister,” the Mirror said cheerfully, “We had thought we were the last.”

“We are not,” she said, smiling as she felt it all come together in her mind, never stopping in her enchanted dance, “We have other siblings out there. Not many, but they are there, awaiting their completion. Let’s go! We have places to go to.”


	85. West Bound and Down

**Song:[ _West Bound and Down_](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3Du_GFP1PD9GA&t=YjE4ODM3NjYwMmE0ZGY4NDcxMjAwZmY4ZmRmMDQyNWY3MWY0ZjUzMCxyUXFLTEJJVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AdQVg7WQokQ70TRl2U0G3Vw&p=https%3A%2F%2Flogo-comics.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F185647344419%2Fthe-songs-and-stories&m=0) by Jerry Reed**

**[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/45772111):[Boulevard of Broken Dreams (Gregorian Chant)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kkqclmhviVo&feature=youtu.be)**

 

The truck rode down the road. It had its cargo ready, and it was going to make it there. Every delivery was delivered on time always. It was a fact in the same way that water was wet and the surface of the sun was too hot for human beings. These things were simple enough. The driver grinned as the truck continued down its path.

It was a beautiful day. Of course, were he asked, the driver would have said that every day was a beautiful day. He had places to be and he was going to get there. Given the distance between two of them and the issue of the third not being easy to track, one could understand if other drivers would have called it impossible, but the driver was not one of those other drivers.

“Come on, Bandit,” he grinned, “We’ve got a long way to go and a short time to get there.”

He chuckled before he pulled over in front of the first place. It was a beautiful building, and even people who were not the driver would have said so. A gorgeous theater was where he had stopped, with a golden 9 shining proudly above the door. The back of the truck opened even as he exited the cabin, with the cargo ready to be hauled.

“Thanks, Bandit,” he grinned running his hand along the truck’s side as he took the package. When he was greeted by the sight of a boy with a girl with wings that looked to be made of porcelain, he grinned and held out the package as he said, “Bandit and Driver Deliveries, sir. Here for all of your delivery needs. You ordered a parcel and here it is.”

“Thank you very much!” the boy grinned as he signed for the package, “You have no idea how hard it is to find these cameras.”

“We’ve been trying to get our hands on this for some time,” the angel noted, taking the box from him.

“No problem,” he said, “World’s coming back together. Everyone’s got something they need, and we deliver it.” He handed the boy a business card, “Henry, Angel. Glad to see the Cloud Nine’s back in business, but I do have a long way to go. Remember to call when you need us again.” With a bow, he turned on his heel and headed to the truck.

“Give Bandit our best,” Henry called out.

“Henry and the Angel said ‘hi,’ Bandit,” he grinned as he took his seat, “Where to next?”

“West,” replied the cheerful voice on the radio, “You know the place.”

The truck made its way down the road at speeds that were almost ridiculous, yet no police officer noticed, and it seemed become immaterial when it would have collided with other vehicles.

When they finally stopped, it was in front of a black gate that opened under their own power to let Bandit and the Driver into the estate known as the Haunted House. When he got off, another packages in hand, he was greeted by the two Servants, who smiled in their doll-like way as their Mistress arrived.

“Bandit and Driver Deliveries, ma'am,” he greeted, “Here for all of your delivery needs. You ordered a parcel and here it is.”

“Servants,” she said gently, “Would you?”

The pair took the large box from his hand as he held out the form for her to sign.

“The magic I have on the house never gets the paint quite right on the oil paintings,” she noted as she signed the form, “Thank you and Bandit for your services.”

“Everyone’s got work to do,” he replied cheerfully, handing his card, “I’m just glad that everyone’s coming back. Take care, everyone. Remember to call when you need us.”

With that, he returned to the cabin again and they rode again.

“Lead the way, Bandit,” he said.

“Happily,” the voice on the radio replied, “Let’s go.”

The Amusement Park look better than it had in years. Though, he supposed that was because he had seen it as a rundown old wreck the last few times he’d passed it. They drove through the entryway as the clockwork band left their gazebo, playing their music as the Owner stood right in the center of the path. Bandit opened the door as the Driver made his way to the back, before he took the package.

“Bandit and Driver Deliveries, ma'am,” he grinned, “Here for all of your delivery needs. You ordered a parcel and here it is.”

“Finally!” the girl said excitedly, “I’ve been looking forward to this! The funhouse has been in need of an update! Thanks, you two!”

“No problem,” he replied, “Glad to see you back in business! We’ve got to head out, but remember to call when you need us!”

And with that, he returned to the cabin and they made their way along the road one more. They still had a long way to go.


	86. A Thousand Miles

**Song:[ _A Thousand Miles_](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DCwkej79U3ek%26feature%3Dyoutu.be&t=YzZhZGQ4MWJkMTVlMWI3NGJlOTNmMzNiYWQyNWIyZjI5MDRmOTcwMSxyUXFLTEJJVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AdQVg7WQokQ70TRl2U0G3Vw&p=https%3A%2F%2Flogo-comics.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F185806854994%2Fthe-songs-and-stories&m=0) by Vanessa Carlton**

**[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/46007200): [The Apology Song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ttR5s-pwrcQ&feature=youtu.be) **

 

It felt like it had been an eternity. Since what, she did not know, but she knew that it felt like eternity since whatever it was. She couldn’t quite say what it was that she was missing, but she missed it deeply. She was haunted by precious memories that did not exist. And time continued to pass as she walked through the town aimlessly.

Her expression was blank as she moved, but she did not know what to do. She didn’t even know where she was going. This, however, was common. She often wandered aimlessly, and she could not, for the life of her, say why that was. She watched the clouds pass unemotionally, endlessly drifting as they changed shape and form. People passed her by, paying her no heed. Different faces, different people, yet she did not care about them, either.

She continued walking aimlessly, only to suddenly hear the sound of a horn honking in the lot beside her, causing her to pause in confusion. Turning, she saw a delivery truck before her while a young man in a pristine uniform smiled cheerfully as he stepped out with the package.

“Miss Dove, is it?” he asked. Confused by the fact that he knew her name, she nonetheless nodded carefully. “Bandit and Driver Deliveries, ma'am,” he said, holding out a clipboard and a small box, “Here for all of your delivery needs. You have been sent a parcel and here it is.”

She signed for the package and handed back the clipboard, at which point, he handed her the small box and said, “Well, best be headed off. He and I have places to be. Enjoy, Captain.”

She didn’t know what to make of that statement, but she was prevented from asking by the fact that he left. Cautiously, she opened the box, only to see an old key and helmet of some sort, but, upon seeing it, her eyes widened and, unthinkingly, she began to run.

She knew that this was right and that it was no great distance. That didn’t matter to her, as she knew that she’d run a thousand miles for this. When she finally got there, she unlocked the gate to the storage facility and practically ripped the gates open before sprinting onward. There she was. She had been a masterpiece of craftsmanship when she’d first been built, but now, she was simply coated in dust, with her paint faded, her glass cracked and shattered in some places, and rust on her steel.

And yet…

And yet, in that moment, she knew what she had been missing, what she needed. Grinning broadly, she put her helmet upon her head and stepped closer, lowering the goggles over her eyes, hiding them from sight. She ran her hand lovingly along the fuselage as she felt a wave of love and affection in return.

“I missed you,” she murmured as she climbed into the cockpit. As she shut the cover, the Plane roared to life, her engines purring contentedly as she took the controls in her hands. The decay and the damage faded away and they were off into the sky once more.

In the cockpit, the Captain grinned.

“I love you.” she said.

“Love ya, too,” the Plane replied, and their travels began anew.


	87. Man In The Mirror

**Song:[ _Man In The Mirror_](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DPivWY9wn5ps%26feature%3Dyoutu.be&t=NzUyMzZiNTY0MzMyMDhmMGRkM2RlMzM3MjNhNmQ0M2ZlOTVkMzNiNCxyUXFLTEJJVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AdQVg7WQokQ70TRl2U0G3Vw&p=https%3A%2F%2Flogo-comics.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F185969427999%2Fthe-songs-and-stories&m=0) by Michael Jackson**

**[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/46238587): [Heaven's Light](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QCElV5dBlnw&feature=youtu.be)  
**

 

Pestilence made his way through the latest township. The Plague had been a successful little endeavor. He sighed tiredly as he relaxed. He had killed so many people by that point. He needed to relax. A breather.

It was a job. His job. He had been Conquest just a century prior, but Upstairs had chosen to change things up, saying that War and Conquest had a sort of redundancy to them. He even thrived in that role. It was one of those traveling jobs, different from his previous one in that he was now directly responsible for such things. He smiled to himself a bit at how inspired he felt the flea was as a delivery system. It was kinda fun, if he were to be honest and he would have been disappointed to let things end if only because he wanted to come up with more things.

His job, however, was even more of a direct job than his previous one, so he got to witness everything from the ground level. He got to witness everything that he was working with. He got to witness humanity on a closer scale than he had experienced them before.

Then, he saw a woodcut. It was rather fascinating, if he were to be honest. He had never actually seen much in the way of art before that point. It was actually rather fascinating to look at. And so he began to examine mankind closer in his travels.

Misery, suffering, all of that pain, and yet they were all trying to continue with it despite all of that. The best efforts of his siblings meant nothing to them but a need to rebuild. He found himself growing strangely fond of them.

They loved, they created, they danced and sang. They told stories. How could he not be fascinated by the things that they did? They were everything that he wasn’t. He had never written a song, never created anything but tools of death and despair. And, even through everything that he and his siblings threw at them, they banded together, always persisting, always working to do more and more to create a world that was a better place each and every time.

And he coveted that. He cherished their creations and everything that they were. He saw them love and treat others wit kindness and gentility that he had never offered to another soul. Despite himself, he had grown somewhat attached to them. But the world moved onward. Idly, he glanced at his reflection in a river, at the white crown resting upon his head as his Black Death continued to spread. Why did they have to die now? Why did he have to open things? With his plague, War would come next. Then Famine, then Death would officially bring it to a close. The Witness just had to come and see. His head tilted as he stared at his reflection.

What if the Witness could not witness it all? War still had time before she would arrive. He had not yet summoned the Witness, despite knowing who they were. He even knew where they were. Idly, he glanced at the soul in the distance and, with a thought, sent a singular flea after him. Now it was just a matter of waiting.

He was going to let them grow further. He wanted to watch them grow and spread. He wanted them to infect one another with their stories, their ideas, their dreams. He’d cultivate them in a sense, arranging for them to continue to grow. It was simple enough. He’d just have to prevent the Apocalypse. Idly, he thought on how their kindness might have rubbed off on him a bit. Perhaps their nature was contagious to an extent. He chuckled at the thought, but made a mental note of it.


	88. Musik of Angels

**Song:[ _Musik of Angels_](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DDmIB04gili0&t=YzU1ZDI0MTZkMWRkZTE2NjM5YWVmYjM1NzNiMmM2NTY3ZjZlMzhhMyxyUXFLTEJJVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AdQVg7WQokQ70TRl2U0G3Vw&p=https%3A%2F%2Flogo-comics.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F186133321279%2Fthe-songs-and-stories&m=0) by Mozart**

**[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/46679497): [Empty Chairs and Empty Tables](https://youtu.be/Cbb2v-9WXD0)  
**

 

She wasn’t sure how the Demon found a phonograph after the invader had been destroyed, but there she was, once more clad in her white suit, sitting on a step with the phonograph playing Mozart. Sighing, she approached the Demon and sat down, her clothes reverted back to her t-shirt and ripped black jeans.

“We won,” the Demon  noted mildly as Musik of Angels played, “It’s over and everything’s at piece.”

“Yep,” the Angel said, shutting her eyes as she leaned back on the steps, “Invaders are all dead and everyone’s rebuilding. Everything’s all nice and orderly.”

“Are you alright?” the Demon asked.

“As well as I can be with that playing,” she replied, before quickly adding, “Where’d you even find that thing.”

“It’s easy to find them,” the Demon said, stopping the recording with a snap of her fingers, “Not a fan of Mozart?”

“Not a fan of that song,” she confessed, “I don’t get why you love it so much.”

“I find it strangely soothing,” she shrugged, “Why do you dislike it so much?”

“It’s just…” she struggled to find the words, “I spent the better part of eternity bound to the Harmony of the Spheres. I was a part of them for so long and sometimes I can still hear it. It just…”

“Isn’t the same?” the Demon offered slowly.

“That’s not it,” the Angel replied, “It’s… I hated it. I was boundless and endless. I was math and sound and light and thought, but I was just a thing. An abstraction. A recurring note in a tune that never ended.” She chuckled darkly. “The day I was told to come down here was the day I decided that I never wanted to be anywhere else. I can still hear the Harmony, sometimes. I’m still a part of it, no matter how hard I try to pretend I’m not. When it gets too loud, I turn on their music. I figure that I’ll drown it out in the good stuff. I hated being connected to it, you know? Being so intrinsically bound to Upstairs?”

“I don’t,” the Demon said slowly, “I can’t hear it. I can’t ever hear any of it. We don’t hear the Harmony anymore. Not after being sent Downstairs. I don’t remember the Mathematics, the Music, and most definitely not the Light. Part and parcel of the whole job. I made a mistake an eternity ago, and I’m still paying for it.”

“Is that why…?”

“It’s not the same,” she cut her off, “I know it’s not the same. But it’s gentle and it’s calm. It’s peace and serenity, wrought by mortal hands. It’s… comfortable. It’s something. I hate being cut off. I hate knowing that it’s there.”

The Angel snapped her fingers and the piece began playing again. “We’ve got to cope in our own ways,” she shrugged. “You know, we’ve known each other since before there was even life on this rock, and I just realized that I never asked your name. I’m Vivaldi.”

“They call me Discordiae,” the Demon replied, before pulling out the Angel’s music player and headphones, “A pleasure to finally meet you properly.”


	89. Hey, Jude

**Song:[ _Hey Jude_](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DFhXU8c8qwXs&t=YjZmMTM4MjFiMmUxNmFiZTM0Y2IzMWZhMTZmM2ExNzUwMmQyNGY2NCxyUXFLTEJJVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AdQVg7WQokQ70TRl2U0G3Vw&p=https%3A%2F%2Flogo-comics.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F186296840109%2Fthe-songs-and-stories&m=0) by The Beatles**

**[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/46914274): [Almost Human](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E_OWfHOHq_U&feature=youtu.be)  
**

 

“Well,” she said, dusting herself off as she pulled herself together once more, a slow, sad song in her head as she felt magic, itself was weaker than it had any right to be, creating a cold, tired world. “This cannot stand.” The field in which she had arrived was empty soon after.

She had work to do.

The first part was easy, particularly the tracking. Despite always being on the move, they had not stopped traveling the exact same route, never stopping, not even for gas. Were one to have tracked them the entire time, they would have realized that they never stopped at all and that all traffic lights tended to accommodate them. Faded paint rested on the side and the vehicle’s interior was somehow covered in dust, yet everything worked fine, save for the radio, which had been silent for too long. So had the one behind the wheel, but one would have had a hard time discerning him from a well-embalmed corpse as it was.

She grinned as she stood in the middle of their path that night. Right as they would have obliviously mowed her down, the vehicle came to a complete stop for the first time in too long.

The one behind the wheel, a figure that was as coated in dust as the rest of the vehicle stepped out as she moved forward, walking up to his door before she gave him a hearty pat on the back, knocking the dust off of him in one blow before she knocked on the side of the truck. It was as if the very life of them had been returned as the decay and dust vanished, returning a brightness to both. The radio whistled to life before a voice began coughing, as if spitting out something foul-tasting.

“Bandit, Driver,” she grinned, “Time to ride properly again. You know what to do.”

“Yes, ma'am!” the pair said in unison. She stood there seeming to have been forgotten as he climbed into the cabin, lovingly running his hand along the dash before they were off once more, leaving the street empty.

There was what looked a young woman called Miss Dove, but that was not who she was. Who she was was a different person entirely, but there she was, in a simple motel room that the management would not have even remembered existed, nor would the previous owner, or the owner before that. She did not move at all, as if she were catatonic, and she had been like that for some time, unblinking eyes directed at the ceiling as she lay there, not even wasting away, simply existing.

She was in there, now, standing beside the bed before she knelt next to the Miss Dove before she whispered in her ear. “You have somewhere to be, you know…” she whispered, and, at that, Miss Dove rose and began her travels, not knowing what she was seeking, but knowing she was seeking it as she abandoned the empty motel room.

She had another soul to visit.

“The Amusement Park,” was all that the girl in the red coat heard, and were she anyone but who she was, she would have missed it entirely. The girl in the red coat did not notice her, but then, she didn’t really need her to do so. The important thing was that the thought was now in her head, and she would go to it and become herself once more.

The next soul she needed restored was the more interesting one to prepare. She could not go to this one directly, as she was not the sort to do anything she was told to do, and was definitely not the sort to simply go somewhere because she had heard a name. She was, even without her memories, one who was destined to command, but she was also one who liked knowledge.

A story, a simple ghost story, spread among the people was all she had needed to get her ready.

The final soul was her favorite to arrange to be fixed, but that was in no small part because he had woken up on his own,  even if he couldn’t recall who he was or where he had been locked away for all that time. He was unable to be far from the Cloud Nine or the Angel. While the others were loving partners with their attachments, as was the case of the Captain and Driver with the Plane and Bandit, and others were the rulers of their own kingdoms, as were the Mistress and the Owner with her Servants and the Park Staff, Henry was as much a piece of the Cloud Nine and the Angel as they were a part of him. They were drawn together eternally, and so she just whispered in his ear to go inside when he was again walking through the alley behind the theater.

She smiled as he did just that and she felt the world coming back to right. Things would be fixed and she and her friends would be alright once more. The Witch grinned as she felt another pull of magic. Her Scarecrow was on his way home. She’d simply have to be there to meet him.


	90. Get Jinxed

**Song: _[Get Jinxed](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D0nlJuwO0GDs&t=ZmRjOTBjNzQwMTU0NjEyZjE5YzViZDYzNjk4NDYwYTVjODZlNTY1OSxyUXFLTEJJVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AdQVg7WQokQ70TRl2U0G3Vw&p=https%3A%2F%2Flogo-comics.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F186783532084%2Fthe-songs-and-stories&m=0) _by Djerv**

**[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/47658049):[Deliver Us](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YD8mZmGSDNc&feature=youtu.be)  
**

 

She grinned and tilted her hat to hide her eyes, before pulling on her blue coat. She was going to have some fun. She raised her rifle and jumped off of the roof of the twenty-three-story building.

Playtime.

She plummeted to the ground with a wide grin on her face as she aimed and fired at the top of the ten-story building across the way. The bullet soared through the air as her grin turned feral, a demonic bliss on her face as she watched the bullet make its target, three seconds before she crashed into the ground in a way that would have killed anyone else, shattering bone and organs into no better than fragments and slime. For her, it was a pile of broken bones and burst organs, which she promptly pulled back together before she  picked up her gun, dismantled it, and tossed the components int the garbage.

She skipped towards the building, ignoring the looks of horror on the people’s faces when she passed them by. It would take a while before her reason for being there would turn up, so she figured that she could kill time with more of the bullet’s target’s employees.

Straightening out her blood-stained coat, she giggled and opened the front door. She knew that no one in there was without sin, and that none of them had hands without blood on them. It was what made this place so fun for what she was about to do there. She reached into her coat as the guards rushed her, recognizing her mask as she approached them, her grin still wide across her face as she let them surround her. As they pointed their guns at her, however, she simple unbuttoned and opened her coat, then smiled beatifically as she revealed her hands. Resting on four fingers of each hand were metal rings attached to steel pins. And things were engulfed in flames.

Once that floor was cleared, she marched up the stairs, shaking her head in amusement as she felt the magazines of the guard’s guns resting on her belt before she kicked the door to the next floor open.

This was not quite as fun as she’d hoped. And then the guards opened fire on her from the other end of the hallway. She let them fire until she fell, before she rose again, letting them continue the cycle before she started actively dodging, shooting each of them with a precision that was specifically performed to inflict pain for a long time.

The other floors continued in a similar manner, with one floor involving hand-to-hand combatants whose deadly blows were worthless with what she could do.

As she cleared out the rest of the tenth floor, she scowled. This wasn’t fun at all. She was starting to feel ignored with how he hadn’t come to play, yet. What she needed was a bit of panic, but there was nobody left for that. Of course, she supposed that she could change that. She pulled out her detonator and laughed as she pressed the trigger, causing the building to collapse into itself beneath her feet.

“Nothing?!” she glared at the sky once she dug herself out of there, “I put on a masterful performance and you can’t even bother to show up?! Come on!”

“Crash Test?” a voice said from behind her, sounding incredulous, “What have you done?”

“Finally!” she said, turning to see her heroic nemesis, “Relax, they’re not people! They’re messed up villains, Cape kid traders, to be precise, though none of their ‘merchandise’ was in here, and those guys aren’t much of anything other than paste, now. Anyway, I’m the one who should be upset, Dusty! You’re late!”

The hero known as Ash stood before her, his arms crossed over his chest while his black mask covered his face. “Late?” he asked in confusion.

“It’s no fun when you’re not here!” she laughed, “You’re the only one who can keep up with me and you weren’t turning up. I was starting to think I’d have to destroy the city or something to get you here. It’s time for us to have our little dance! You and me, this old game! I make a run for it and you chase me down! Catch me if you can.”

She pressed another detonator, causing the ground beneath them to explode. Neither were harmed, her because of her regeneration and him because of his body’s unique structure, but it gave her the time to pull off her signature disappearing act, giving her the head start she needed for her game. It was much more fun to play with another person.


	91. I Wanna Be Like You

**Song:[ _I Wanna Be like You (Disney Jazz Cover)_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nA06XDZW1hI) by Jonathan Young, ft. insaneintherain**

**[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/47900056):[Rightfully](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7z4WJAEG3u8&feature=youtu.be)**

 

The Angel continued to sing the same song by rote as the night before while the automated piano did played a jazz tune in the exact same way. The young man sighed tiredly in his office as the song continued. It was his place, technically, The Cloud Nine, which only had the draw of the Angel and her dancing and singing. It was a novelty show, and the novelty had begun to wear off some time ago.

“I've heard tell that you're looking for me,” an unfamiliar voice chimed in, causing him to turn to see a woman standing beside a man who held a pipe that was endlessly releasing smoke in his mouth.

“If you are who I think you are, I have,” he said neutrally, “If not, then I haven't.”

“I'm her,” she replied freely, “So, why have you been searching for me?”

“I'm looking for help,” he replied, “I'm willing to make a deal with you.”

“Talk,” she said, snapping her fingers, making a chair materialize behind her just as she sat down, “Scarecrow, be a dear and guard the door.”

“I've heard about the two of you,” he said slowly, “The Witch and her Scarecrow... They say that you brought him to life with magic.”

“And that would be your business how, exactly?” she asked, pouring herself coffee from a pot she pulled out of thin air.

“I want to be able to do what you do,” he said, “I... I want to be able to create life from the inanimate.”

“That's a pretty tall order,” she noted, paying more attention to the sugar she added to her coffee than she was to him, “And why would you want to do that, anyway?”

“You saw my Angel,” he said, “I built her, myself, but... I couldn't make her as well as she deserved.”

“Go on,” the Witch said, tilting her head curiously, “Tell me what exactly you want.”

“I want her to be able to sing songs that she wants to sing,” he replied, “I want her to be able to say that she likes certain things and dislikes others. I want to be able to have conversations with someone other than myself and I want to be able to talk to my best friend and know that . I'm good, but I'm not good enough to give the Angel the ability to be herself. I can't do it, but magic can, so I want to be good enough.”

“I see...” the Witch said, “And what price would you be willing to pay for the ability to ensure the Angel can live?”

“The Cloud Nine,” he replied immediately, “It's all I've got to give.”

“Not necessarily,” she replied, stirring the coffee with a smile like a knife's edge, “You do have another commodity. Exchanges need to be balanced, after all...”

“If that's what you want from me,” he said, placing a revolver on the table, the muzzle pointed towards him, “Go ahead. I did my best and had to stop where I was. You need my life for this, take it. All I ask is that you take care of her and make sure she becomes a headliner, like she deserves.”

“Oh, you are a good one,” she smiled serenely, before taking the gun and pointing it between his eyes, which he closed in preparation for the killing blow, “Let's test your resolve, shall we?” She pulled the trigger and, to his surprise, confetti blasted him in the face.

“You passed,” she said in surprise, “Well, then. That changes things... Alright. I'll give you a shot. You're not that common to come across. You'll meet him, maybe, if you make it. Do you really want to be able to give the Angel life?”

“Yes,” he replied honestly, “I'll do whatever you ask to give my friend life.”

“You're going to have to understand what you're getting into,” she said, “If you do this, then you're tied to her and this place forever.”

“Sounds good to me,” he shrugged, only to blink in surprise as she snapped her fingers and what looked like a crystalline rose fell into the coffee, which she then held out to him.

“Drink this,” she said, “And it's done.”

When he took the drink and finished it, he suddenly heard laughter that was in a voice he'd recognize anywhere, before his door was shoved open.

“Henry, I'm alive!” the Angel cheered, moving in ways that were not preset for her.

“Henry, I present The Angel,” the Witch said with a smirk as the Scarecrow took his position behind her, “May you both enjoy this.”

With that, she faded into the shadows, leaving them to get used to the effects. She grinned to herself. Things were beginning.


	92. Hallelujah

**Song:[ _Hallelujah_](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DLRP8d7hhpoQ&t=NGQ0OGY1ZDkwMjIwNDE0ZmI1ODAzNTdiNDhkMDc5YjY2MjMzYTg1ZCxyUXFLTEJJVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AdQVg7WQokQ70TRl2U0G3Vw&p=https%3A%2F%2Flogo-comics.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187109709169%2Fthe-songs-and-stories&m=0) written by Leonard Cohen covered by Pentatonix**

**[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/48138415): [So This Is Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hYELLBw7FZQ&feature=youtu.be)  
**

 

“Nice to see you,” the Witch said as the Puppeteer entered her own home late that night, “Or, rather, I’ve been waiting for you to show up.”

“Gu–!” the Puppeteer began, only to be struck in the throat painfully, revealing the Scarecrow, hidden in the shadows save for the glow of his pipe. The Witch, in contrast, was bathed in moonlight, giving her an ethereal look that no one could quite copy.

“No, no,” the Witch said, still slouching on the arm of the Puppeteer’s throne, “Don’t try that. You’ll only make me angrier.”

“Why… are you… here?” the Puppeteer rasped once she was once more able to breathe.

“Oh, you know why!” the Witch replied amiably as she shoved the Puppeteer back into a chair that the Scarecrow held out. With a twitch of the Witch’s fingers, the Puppeteer was bound to the chair with enchanted rope, before a stabbing like needles could be felt in her hands, pinning her fingers together, “I’d rather you not try to trick me. You stole things that weren’t yours. You were also planning on doing it again, now that I had fixed things.” She clicked her tongue disappointedly. “You didn’t get it when you sought me out, you didn’t get it when you decided on this course of action, and you still don’t get it. You stole magic personally binding others. And that’s not nice.”

“What do they matter?” she snarled “I offered you money. I offered you anything I could purchase that you could ask for.”

“You didn’t have the right reasons,” the Witch said, snapping her fingers to shut the door, “You didn’t care. You just wanted toys. You weren’t Henry, who wanted his companion to live a full life. You weren’t Dove or Driver, who only wanted to be with their partners. You weren’t even the Mistress, who wanted something to fill the loneliness that filled her heart, or the Owner, who dreamed of sharing a little magic with the world and her creations. You wanted toys to fulfill your every whim.” Her eyes narrowed, “And I don’t deal with those who have no appreciation for life. If I had no love for life beyond myself, I would not have created my friend after having walked empty rooms for so long. If Henry had none, the Angel would have never been able to speak for herself. If any of the others had been like you, there would have been no miracles.”

The Puppeteer tried to speak, but she was cut off.

“Miracles that you tried to break in a bid to steal the magic inherent to the love they felt.”

“Something I’ve learned in my time is that those who refuse to see the light when they seek magic wind up breaking things, and I have to fix them. I hate those who make me have to fix them. I’ve been in this exact situation before.”

“What do you plan on doing?” the Puppeteer pressed.

“You know, I don’t know where the power of the magic come from,” the Witch noted, stroking the five gems on the throne irreverently, “I don’t know if there’s any force that judges these things. I have no proof for either argument. You, however, caused harm to five bonds. You forced beings that were unloved to wretched unlives. You caused all of these years of misery for your own pride and amusement. Whether or not there is a judge, I personally will hold you accountable for your misdeeds.”

“You already fixed them” the Puppeteer demanded, “You said so, yourself. Why would you bother with me?”

“Because you would try again and again,” the Scarecrow said simply, drawing her gaze towards the shadows once more.

“Well said,” the Witch said, before snapping her fingers once again, causing the Puppeteer feel a stinging sensation over her mouth, as if it were sewn shut all at once. “So…” Another snap shattered the throne and the gems within while the Witch hovered in place.

The Puppeteer suddenly felt the magic break away from her and return to where it belonged, but there was something else still there…

“As for your ‘Guards…'” the Witch said coldly as a horrible scratching could be heard at the door, “I believe that they have enough magic that I can leave you to their mercies., Do let them in, Scarecrow, if you’d be so kind…”


	93. In the Land of Twilight, Under the Moon

**Song:[ _In the Land of Twilight Under the Moon_](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DtJsiotKI8Sg&t=ZWEzYjdlOTcxYWUwOTI1NTFiZTllZDRiN2FiZTQ0NTk5ZjlkOWNiYixyUXFLTEJJVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AdQVg7WQokQ70TRl2U0G3Vw&p=https%3A%2F%2Flogo-comics.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187265967334%2Fthe-songs-and-stories&m=0) from .Hack**

**[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/48367840): [Edel no Organ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X0G8wYsk8wQ&feature=youtu.be) **

 

The crescent moon hung over the world that cloudless night as they walked. A boy made of shadows and a girl clad in a cloak made of the night sky. The town that they entered was silent, as was to be expected. The beasts were roaming wild in the land.

She held a staff of moonlight that looked more majestic than his blade forged from shadows, a jagged thing that, were it made of steel, would likely have been rusted.

“It is time, dear friend,” she said, “There is evil to vanquish.”

He nodded silently as he did a few practice swings of his blade.

The beasts approached, their claws ready as they moved to strike the two who dared trespass upon their revelry down. At that, the shadow raised his lantern and took his position in the center of what was to become a battlefield.

It was time for the dance once again. She sang gently as the beasts approached, her staff at the ready for her attack. It was long since time for them to begin again.

The beasts began to charge, and she wove through them, her staff shining brilliantly as she moved through them, striking blow after blow with her staff while they howled in pain. Evil had been allowed to flourish for too long.

The beasts recoiled at the burning cold that tore into their flesh with each blow. She was too quick, too mobile. She drew a crescent moon, the mirror image of that in the sky in the air with her staff and attached it to her staff, slicing through the beasts even as they tried to claw at her.

Soon, she was beginning to tear through them as if they were wheat. Cleverer beasts tried to strike against the lantern, believing that it was the source of her power, but the shadow simply held it up and released his grip, allowing the flame to continue to burn even as the shadow’s sword seemed to grow darker and darker. As the beasts continued their attack, the shadow tore its blade into them eagerly, causing the creatures to flinch in horror as the shadows of the blade overtook its flesh, tearing into them with the speed of a vanishing shadow. It was the shadow between lights, lingering ever constantly, ever yearning. The beasts could barely scream silently as they were consumed.

They continued their work. It was simple enough for them. They were, after all, what monsters feared.

By the time they had finished up the last of the beasts, the twilight became visible and her cloak faded into a plain black cloak, her staff taking on the appearance of light wood while the lantern lowered into her hand, the light softening from the blaze it had previously been.

They were not weakened by the twilight like the beasts were, but it was best that they were undetected. The bodies of the beasts faded away into dust even as he crept into the lantern, smothering the light within. It was time to travel once more. There was still evil to slay.


	94. I Need A Hero

**Song:[ _I Need A Hero_](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DOBwS66EBUcY&t=NmUwNWU1YzYxODRhMzJjMTE3NGViMTRiNjIwMTJhZTM0OWM4MjQ3NSxyUXFLTEJJVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AdQVg7WQokQ70TRl2U0G3Vw&p=https%3A%2F%2Flogo-comics.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187432492064%2Fthe-songs-and-stories&m=0) by Bonnie Tyler**

**[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/48611873): **_[Creepin' Towards the Door](https://youtu.be/pFHvamvXXDo)_**  
**

 

This was a bar, of sorts, but not really. No one actually drank the liquor, most of which had almost certainly dried up hundreds of years ago. The place was bar-shaped and had all of the right trappings for a bar, but to call it a bar would be wrong. For one thing, a bar had patrons.

For another, a bar wasn’t commonly used as meeting places for dark magic practitioners. They tended to try nightclubs or private parlors, if they were of the older styles of practitioners.

These four were some of the best in their respective fields of dark magic. A necromancer, a summoner, a spellslinger, and a warlock, and they were the only people to use the bar, these days, having had the keys passed down to them from their masters, who had received them from their masters and so forth, up until the day that the bar had been first made.

Thus, it was surprising when a girl dressed in a very precise outfit entered the bar with no trouble.

Magical girls all dressed the same way, with a few details changed between them, and this one was no different from the others who learned magic that way. A tidy skirt, nice shoes, a nice blouse, and a tiara on her head that marked her as a leader of such a group.

It was her eyes that were of interest to them, however. They were empty in a way that her variety of magic user’s eyes never were. If they had been told there was a soul in there, they would not have believed it.

“I’m told you’re all good at what you do.” It was a statement of fact. “You’re working for me, now.”

“I beg your pardon?” the Necromancer said flatly, clearly unhappy with this statement.

“You all work for me, now,” she said, an unnatural tone in her voice as she stepped up to the bar and climbed over to grab a bottle from the shelf, then pour them wine from a bottle that shouldn’t have been able to be poured out of in the first place, given the massive hole in the side of the bottle.

“And why would we do that?” the Spellslinger said, her hand resting on her wand holster on her hip while his hat hid his eyes.

“Because I’d have beaten you unconscious before you could draw, and then I’d be tearing through the rest of you in quick order.”

“What would you even want with us?” the Summoner asked curiously, her imp hovering by her head as it always did, “We aren’t exactly the sort of crowd that your type get along with on the best of days.”

“That’s exactly why I want you four,” she said, “I mean to do some wrong to a rogue magical girl team, and to do that, I need a group of heroes from your end.”

“That’s not really how this sorta thing works,” the Spellslinger noted dryly.

“I didn’t think that a team like that could go rogue,” the Necromancer remarked, steepling skeletal fingers together.

“Then your brain must’ve rotted out,” she replied flatly, “Too many times in the reliquary?”

As the Necromancer bristled, the Summoner tried to maintain the peace, “Is there a reason that you don’t bring a team of your own?”

“Dead,” came the reply from what looked like a battered frog plushy on her shoulder, “They hit them in their own homes.”

“Which is why I’m going to rip each and every one of their heads off,” the Magical Girl smiled cheerfully, “But, Power of Friendship and all that good stuff. Which is why you’re my team, now. I’m powered by my dead friends spirits, but I need a team to get stronger. Can’t wait for a miracle, so you’re what I’ve got.”

“That still doesn’t explain why we should work for you,” the Warlock noted, her eyes glowing with the fey magic that empowered her.

“Because I could beat you all bloody until you agree, but I’d rather we do this civilly,” she said, stepping around the bar. “Tell you what. All of you, try to hit me with your hardest strikes, and we’ll see how it goes.”

That was all that the Spellslinger needed to hear. She drew her wand faster than the eye could see and let off six spells in the same second, silently. Each connected, but had absolutely no effect, at which point, the Magical Girl seemed to vanish from sight before delivering a powerful punch, plucking the wand from the air as the Necromancer began to chant, firing off an orb of disintegration magic, which she batted aside with one hand before throwing the Spellslinger’s wand at her head with nearly enough force to knock her head off before she closed the distance and did knock her head off, placing it neatly on the bar as the Necromancer’s body tried to locate the skull. The Summoner was next, clearly curious as she sent out her two strongest summons to battle the Magical Girl, who seemed to be impossible for even these mighty creatures to lay a hand upon. They took a good deal of damage before the Summoner released them for their safety, at which point, she felt her staff ripped from her hand and heard it clatter across the room, at which point her cowl was pulled over her eyes before her imp was shoved inside there as well and she was tossed into the Spellslinger before she could recover. The Warlock, for her part, completed the incantation she had been preparing since the battle was joined and fired off another spell, only for the Magical Girl to grab the energy and slam it into the ground before her feet as she approached the Warlock. As she prepared a quick incantation that could at least buy her time, her spell was cut off by a sudden blow to the diaphragm, stopping her spellcasting with a sudden lack of air before she, too, was tossed at the Spellslinger, leaving the group a mess on the ground.

With that, she took the Necromancer’s head and placed it gently back into position, grabbed the Summoner’s staff and the Spellslinger’s wand and handed them off as she helped them to their feet before she gently helped the Warlock to her feet.

“You were the most dangerous one in the room in that moment,” she said in lieu of an apology, “Now, can I tell you what I need you for, or do we need to do this again?”

“Well, that’s a helluva way to get someone’s attention,” the Spellslinger said, “I’m willing to listen to ya, at least.”

“There’s nothing to gain in another fight,” the Necromancer remarked, “So I suppose I can listen to more information, at least.”

“I have no reason not to listen,” the Summoner said, soothing her imp as she spoke.

“I was already curious,” the Warlock noted, “And it sounds like that group could prove to be problematic. I will aid you regardless of what the others decide. What do you know of our enemies?”


	95. Mr. Sandman

**Song:[ _Mr. Sandman_](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DejnSBdd5XIo&t=YTVkZjQxZGMzZDU3ZGVhZDEzNDAxOTAwZTczOTY2NzU2NjVmM2Y5MyxyUXFLTEJJVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AdQVg7WQokQ70TRl2U0G3Vw&p=https%3A%2F%2Flogo-comics.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187590105059%2Fthe-songs-and-stories&m=0) by The Chordettes**

**[Magi's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/48841766):** **[_The Good Stuff_](https://youtu.be/n1qhmU56t4g) **

 

“The song is a bit tasteless,” the voice of a boy could be heard to say, “Do you mind?”

“What’s wrong with it?” the girl asked defensively.

“Firstly, I am not a dating service,” he said, “secondly, dreams don’t work like that.”

“But you think you’re the Sandman,” she noted, turning down the music.

“No,” he disagreed, “No more than you are a princess, an astronaut, a superheroine, a knight… I have the power over dreams, but I am no Sandman, though you can still call me that, if you must give me a name. Why do you call me here so often? You never ask for anything. I don’t understand it. Everyone wants something.”

“I wanted company,” she shrugged, “So, you’re just a guy with the power to mess with dreams, then?” she asked.

“Do I look like an ordinary guy?” he asked with an amused chuckle, as the shadow of a boy sitting on a chair that appeared on the wall changed, flowing from one form to another, “But why me? If you could summon me, you could summon someone with more interesting abilities. So, why me?”

“Do you have a better place to be?” she asked.

“Not particularly,” he replied, “I don’t really do much, or attend to any others very often.”

“So you were bored and had nothing better to do, too,” she summarized, “So, really, we’re in the same boat, Mr. Sandman.”

“Not necessarily,” he replied, “You still haven’t answered my question. Why me?”

“Curiosity,” she replied, “Some shadowy figure turns up in your room eating… something, and you kinda start wondering things.”

“I told you already. I consume nightmares,” he replied, the shadow of the boy plucking an impish shadow out of the air before hunching over in its seat and beginning to tear into it with his teeth, the shadow revealing light to show a fanged maw as the imp struggled to escape, “I also don’t get the description of a magic beam. Why would I have a magic beam if I use sand in this scenario?”

“Why are you the Sandman, anyway?” she asked, no longer unnerved by the consumption.

“Ask Europe,” he shrugged, “I, as you can see, am not a purveyor of sand or men.”

“Just shadows,” she replied.

“A preference,” he said,, “This is more pleasant.”

“If you eat nightmares, how do nightmares still happen?”

“Only one of a kind at a time,” he replied, “And there are many nightmares. Besides, I have to pause for nightly conversations.”

“I could stop if it’s keeping you,” she noted.

“I would prefer if you didn’t,” he responded, “Being one of a kind means that I do not exactly have much in the way of company. It’s nice to have a friend.”

“We’re friends?” she asked.

“I would like to think so,” he replied freely, “We’ve held several conversations and you aren’t intolerable for an amateur summoner.”

“Here’s to not being intolerable,” she replied, holding up her soda bottle in a mock toast, “You’re not terrible, yourself, even if you are a weird shadow guy who eats weird things.”

“To not being terrible,” he replied, raising the shadow of a glass he wasn’t holding earlier up to mimic the toast. And with that, they continued to shoot the breeze as they did every night.

He was right, she thought. It was nice to have a friend.


End file.
